Correspondences and or Encounters
by Sheri Contrary
Summary: This is going to be a series of RELATED one-shots about the times Draco and Harry either correspond in some way or find time for a liaison. Some of the one-shots will involve other people, such as Ginny and/or Astoria, and possibly others, but they will be mostly about our two lovely young men. Note: each ONE-SHOT will be complete in and of itself. 3rd up: "A Visit to Malfoy Manor"
1. Mirror, Mirror

**Correspondence and/or Encounters**

**Author's Notes**

**A/N #1:** This is going to be a series of _related_ **ONE-SHOTS** about the times Draco and Harry either correspond in some way or find time for a liaison. Some of will involve other people, like Ginny and/or Astoria (and maybe others), but they will mostly be about our two lovely young men.

**Warning:** This story is m/m **slash**...if you don't care for that sort of thing, please don't bother reading. And there will be **infidelity** involved, once the two men marry their prospective women, but it won't _really_ be cheating since both women are going to be open to what's happening.

**A/N #2: **About a year ago, when I was still posting chapters of Class of Ninety-nine on a regular basis, I had plans to name Harry's new owl, which was a gift from Draco, after **DevientGrey**. But sadly, I haven't gotten that far in the story yet...and now he is gone and will never know about it. *sob* However, I'm going to do it in _this_ story, which is connected to _that_ story. **Lucien**, we miss you, love! 3

**Title**:Mirror, Mirror

**Summary:** Harry's been waiting for Draco to contact him via the two-way mirror he gave him for his birthday—but Draco's been unable. While waiting, Harry recalls their final day at Hogwarts.

**Pairings:** DM/HP

**Rating: **I rated this **M** for language and adult situations

**Disclaimer: **I own NOTHING! At least, nothing that's _Harry Potter_...all of _that_, of course, belongs to the wonderful J.K. Rowling.

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**Posted:** Thursday, 26 July 2012

**Word Count: **4,639 (this ONLY includes actual story, please disregard the "word count" provided by the site)

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**Correspondence #1**

"**Mirror, Mirror"**

Tuesday, 13 July 1999  
(_with memories from Friday, 18 June 1999_)

Lying on his bed, the very bed that had once belonged to his godfather, Sirius Black, Harry thought about the things he wanted to accomplish the next day. There were _so_ many things to get done over the summer before he started Auror training come September, and he _knew_ it would take him longer than a summer to put right the many years of neglect in the ancient home, but he'd been working hard to turn Grimmauld Place into a less grim old place. With the help of his house-elves—he had several now, much to Hermione's upset—he'd made quite the dent. But he wasn't completely finished. There were still _many_ things to contend with—including Walburga Black's portrait in the entrance hall. _That_ crazy old bat _had_ to go, as far as Harry was concerned.

But Harry's thoughts turned, as they often did, to other things. It had been nearly four weeks since he'd completed his schooling at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry—and he'd not yet heard from Draco Malfoy. Not even _once_! Though he'd not _really_ expected to, because of the other man's house arrest, Harry'd still hoped that, after the time they'd shared together over the previous ten months at school, he would have received at least an owl by now. Or something. He had, after all, given Draco a two-way mirror for his birthday in June. They _could have_ been talking every day.

But Harry hadn't heard from the man...and, in all honestly, he was actually quite worried about it. Though he and Draco had returned to Hogwarts the previous September as long-time foes, they had emerged as friends. _More_ than friends, actually. The truth of the matter was that they'd become lovers during the year—though that was something they'd kept to themselves, for the most part. And so Harry was anxious, because of the lack of communication. _Was Draco all right_? Harry wondered daily.

And he had every reason to be concerned. Harry knew where Draco was heading when he left school. Whereas Harry was going to move into Grimmauld Place and settle there permanently—and try to make that nasty old place a home he could be proud of—Draco had been all but dragged back to Malfoy Manor to serve out the remainder of his three hundred and sixty-five day house arrest sentence. _Harry_ would have his friends to keep him company. _He_ would be able to go out whenever he wished—_if_ he wished. _Draco_, on the other hand, would be stuck with his bat-shit crazy parents, restricted to their home that was riddled with horrific nightmares.

And restrictions had started immediately. Their commencement ceremony had quietly taken place on the _eighteenth day of June_—and that was the last they'd seen of one another. One moment they were standing with their housemates—and those a year younger than them who had just finished their seventh year as well—and the next they were being herded off to Hogsmeade Station to catch the train back to London.

But not Draco. Within minutes of the ceremony's completion, two Aurors appeared by the young man's side to escort him from the main courtyard where the festivities were being held, up to their dormitory to acquire his belongings, and off to Malfoy Manor, so that he could be locked away until sometime in February. The Aurors were perfectly polite about it—didn't make even the tiniest scene, Harry noticed—but still it seemed rude...and unnecessary. Draco had no intention of fleeing. They _knew_ this and still they felt it necessary to physically take him back to his ancestral home, instead of letting him travel back to London via the Hogwarts Express like everyone else.

_Some distance from what was quietly happening, Harry watched Draco frown and glance over at him, then turn back to the Aurors and nod, then allow himself to be _removed_. Standing with several of the Weasleys, Harry felt torn. He wanted to run after Draco and yet he felt like he'd be judged for doing so. It was Ginny who noticed and gave him his out._

"_Harry!" she burst, cutting off her brother as she ran up. "Could you help me?"_

_Startled, Harry turned from Ron and looked at Ginny. "Uh...yeah sure, Gin," he answered as he allowed her to pull him toward the castle. Once inside the huge entrance doors, the young woman stopped and smiled up at him._

"_Okay then, go on up and say goodbye," she said._

_Harry blinked, then smiled sheepishly. "Thanks," he said as he pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head._

_Ginny was grinning when Harry let her go—and she continued to grin when he leaned down and kissed her soundly. "Just remember who you're marrying, yeah?" she reminded him when his lips were no longer attached to hers._

_Harry chuckled, then kissed her again. "I haven't forgotten our promise to each other," he said. "Draco and I are just..." He shrugged._

"_Pfft! Yeah, right!" Ginny scoffed. She'd known about them for months. In fact, it was she who'd pointed out to Harry that Draco might _have a thing_ for him...and she'd told him that she understood if he wanted to explore and have some fun. Merlin knew he _deserved_ it—after all he'd been through in his short lifetime. Plus, she'd been seeing others all year. They'd agreed to not be couple this year, but that they _would_ marry...eventually._

_And so he'd _explored_ a side of himself he hadn't known was there—and Ginny was happy for him._

_Frowning, Harry looked down at the young woman he planned to spend his life with. "Gin, you don't have to worry, I promise."_

_Ginny shook her head. "Would you just hush, Harry! I know I have nothing to worry about," she insisted. "Now go...before someone comes looking for us. And, tell Malfoy..." She paused. "Tell _Draco_ to hang in there."_

_Harry nodded, kissed her again, then turned and hurried up to the fifth floor room he'd shared with Draco Malfoy all year. By the time he arrived, he was completely breathless—and Draco, with the two Aurors hovering, was in their room slowly gathering his things. He was _clearly_ in no hurry._

"_Do you mind if I have a moment alone with my roommate?" Harry asked those standing guard._

_Frowning, the two large men glanced at one another, then back at Harry. "We have been instructed to keep Mr. Malfoy in our sights until he has been deposited behind the gates of Malfoy Manor," one of them said._

"_Really?" Harry questioned. "I mean, where do you think he's going to go from our room?"_

"_I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, but it's policy not to leave a prisoner unattended," the other Auror said._

_Harry snorted. "Mr. _Malfoy_ has been here at Hogwarts for the last ten months without being _attended_ by Aurors. Not to mention a couple school trips into Muggle London. I think he can manage to pack his things without having the two of you on top of him."_

_The two Aurors frowned again, then nodded. "We'll be right outside the door if you need us, Mr. Potter."_

_Harry watched them go, then closed the door. Turning, he looked at Draco and rolled his eyes. "Sorry 'bout that."_

_Draco shrugged. "I'm not at all surprised, Harry," he said as he manually folded a shirt. "Besides, it's not like any of this is _your_ fault."_

_Harry smiled sadly at Draco—wishing he could do _something_ for him—then realized what the blond was doing. The Draco that had arrived at Hogwarts in September would _never_ have folded his own clothing when magic could do it for him. Draco had changed!_

_But not wanting to waste time, Harry pulled out his wand and waved it to get Draco's things moving faster, then grabbed the blond and pulled him in for a kiss. "I'm going to miss you," Harry said after several nips at Draco's lips._

"_Hmm. You too, Potter," said Draco._

"_You'll owl, right?" Harry asked._

"_Yes," Draco said with a short nod._

"_And use the mirror?"_

_Draco rolled his eyes. "Of course."_

_Harry grinned, then leaned forward to kiss Draco again, this time with a bit more desperation._

"_You taste like your little redhead," Draco complained._

_Harry chuckled. "Yeah, I kissed her before coming up here," he said nonchalantly as he wove his fingers into Draco's silken hair._

_With a sigh, Draco said, "You _know_ I don't like it when you tell me that."_

_Leaning back, Harry frowned. "Why do you care? We both agreed to stick to our other obligations."_

_Draco shuddered; the thought of being forced to marry a _female_ made his skin crawl. "Yes, I know, but...it's just weird. You do remember that I'm related to the woman right?"_

_Harry nodded. "Yeah, I know. You and Ginny are cousins, I don't know how many times removed."_

_Draco laughed. "No times removed, actually...we're just third cousins. But, you're right, it _doesn't_ matter," Draco said as he attacked Harry's mouth with his own. "So. Do you. Fancy a fuck. Before I'm. Carted off," the blond asked in between their frantic kisses._

_Growling, Harry didn't bother answering. Quickly, he had both their dress robes open and, since his wand was still out, he vanished the lower half of his own clothing, then tossed his wand onto Draco's bed and reached for the blond's belt. He struggled with it for a few seconds, but had the other man's trousers open and pushed down to his knees in a blink. And then he was turned and bent over the side of Draco's bed._

"_No, Harry," Draco said with a frown when he realized that Harry was preparing himself to be fucked. "I want—"_

"_Come on, Draco, we don't have time to go at it for hours," Harry said almost desperately._

_Draco shook his head. Picking up Harry's wand, he vanished his own trousers, then took Harry hand and led the dark-haired young man into the loo. Still holding Harry's wand, Draco pointed it at himself and whispered, "_Lubricus_," then hiked up his robes, placed his hands on the bathroom counter, and looked at Harry in the mirror. "I want _you_ to fuck _me_, Harry," he said. "I want to remember the feel of you inside me while I'm stuck at home."_

_His eyes connecting with Draco's in the mirror, Harry frowned. Draco had only allowed him to do this one other time. "Are...are you _sure_?" he asked, because..._he_ wasn't sure._

_Draco nodded. "I _need_ to have more than just one memory of this...to put in my Pensieve._

_Harry just stared at him._

"_Please."_

_Nodding dumbly, Harry moved up behind Draco and caressed his bared arse—then slid his fingers into the crease, seeking Draco's puckered hole. When he found it, slick with the lubrication the blond had spelled there, Draco groaned in anticipation. Harry played with Draco's opening for only a few seconds, pushing one finger into him and pulling it right back out only a handful of times, then adding a second finger._

"_No time for this, Harry," Draco whined out a reminder. "Just...fuck me."_

_Their eyes meeting in the mirror again, Harry frowned. "I don't wanna hurt you."_

"_Do _I_ hurt ever _you_?" Draco queried._

_Harry shook his head reluctantly, because he didn't think this was quite the same thing. _He_ was used to taking Draco's cock up his arse, whereas Draco was not used to it._

"_Then don't worry about me, all right? I _want_ this."_

_Still feeling somewhat unsure, Harry made a decision. If this was what Draco _wanted_, then Harry was going to give it to him. Nodding, Harry slid his fingers from Draco's body, then lined up his throbbing flesh with blond's pulsing hole and pushed himself into Draco's wanting body. Draco's gray eyes immediately widened at the intrusion, then went dark—causing Harry to halt his movements. But then Draco pushed back onto him._

"_Don't you _dare_ stop, Potter!" he growled forcefully._

"_I need to see, you, Draco," Harry hissed—then whispered the words that would strip Draco of his remaining clothing._

_Draco blinked at Harry's sudden wandless magic, then moaned as one of the dark-haired young man's hands snaked around his body, ran down his chest, then grasped and started pulling at his weeping cock. Over Draco's shoulder, Harry held his gaze in the mirror as he fucked him and jerked him at the same time._

"_Is this what you wanted?" Harry asked after several minutes of driving into Draco over and over again, while stroking him slowly but steadily._

_Nodding, Draco clenched his teeth and, unable to control his own movements, rocked his hips, fucking himself on Harry's brilliant cock while bringing himself closer to release in Harry's hand. "Faster, Harry," Draco grunted after several minutes._

_Speeding up, Harry complied for a time, pounding into the blond without restraint—then he slowed down, choosing instead to move his hips with slower, almost violent, jerks._

"_Oh! Yes!" Draco cried out as each sudden snap of Harry's hips dragged Harry's cock over his prostate gland. "That's...nice! Harder!"_

_Once again, Harry gave Draco what he'd asked for—but only for a short time. And then he again changed tactics. This time the dark-haired man stilled himself—both hand and cock—making Draco groan in frustration._

"_Harry. _Please_," Draco begged, his gray eyes slightly glazed over as he met Harry's fiery green eyes in the mirror again._

_Harry gave a few slow, _deep_ thrusts into the blond's body, grinding his pelvis into Draco's soft bum—then he halted again, making Draco whimper._

"_Please don't stop, Harry," Draco whined. He was panting now, from the constant change in Harry's movements—and from not knowing what was coming next. At first he was being fucked slowly, then frantically fast. Then slow-ish again...but _hard_. Then deep...and then _nothing_. Harry seemed to be just standing there, his cock deeply imbedded in Draco's arse. Yes, the Chosen One was _completely_ evil, Draco decided. And then Harry's hand started in again, making Draco scream, "OH!"_

_Watching Draco in the mirror, because he wanted to see every ounce of pleasure etched in the other man's face, Harry used one hand to wank Draco while the other moved down and grasped the man's balls. Rolling them gently between his fingers, Harry pulled Draco back against his body. The blond fought him for a moment, obviously wanting to watch what Harry was doing to him, but then he must not have been able to hold himself up any longer, because he collapsed back onto Harry's chest, his head lolling onto Harry's shoulder as he sobbed out his pleasure._

"_Harry! I'm gonna...ohhhh!" Draco screamed as his body erupted. "Oh! Yes!"_

_Intent on milking Draco of every drop his body could yield, Harry continued to stroke Draco's cock as he came hard, shooting his load all over the counter top and mirror in front of them, only slowing up when the blond shuddered and groaned, then lay bonelessly against him. For a moment Harry let Draco rest—but then he tipped the blond forward onto the sticky counter, so that he could bring himself to completion too—and Draco just let him. Several thrusts later, Harry came as well, filling up Draco's pulsing canal._

"_That was..._brilliant_, Potter," the blond man said with a stupidly euphoric grin on his face after a few minutes. "I am _definitely_ going to replay this in the Pensieve."_

_Harry laughed as he let his softening cock slide from Draco's body, then he reached for his wand to magic away their mess. "You really have a Pensieve?"_

"_Well no, but...Father does."_

_Harry grimaced. "I _really_ don't like your father, Malfoy."_

_Draco snorted. "_No one_ does, Potter."_

"_Your mother does, apparently," countered Harry._

"_Hmm. That's debatable, actually. Mother is more than a bit disenchanted with him at the moment."_

_Harry frowned. "Disenchanted? That's _all_?"_

_Draco shrugged. "She may not like him much right now, but...well, she does _love_ him."_

"_Right," Harry said as he waved his wand again and brought back his clothing._

"_It _is_ possible, you know...to love someone, but not like them," Draco said—then frowned. "Or vice versa. For instance," Draco went on, "I like _you_, Potter, but...I'm not _in love_ with you."_

_Straightening his tie, Harry looked at Draco—once again in the mirror—and said, "Yeah, and there's a difference between _loving_ someone and being _in love_ with them too."_

_Draco frowned. "What are you saying?"_

_Sighing, Harry turned and wrapped his arms around the blond man. "I don't know. I guess...I guess I'm just saying I'm going to miss you. And I'm going to miss _this_."_

_Draco laughed and brought his arms up to embrace the dark-haired man. "Yeah, me too, Harry. Me too."_

"_So, you'll write?" Harry asked—and he could almost feel Draco roll his eyes._

"_I said I would, right?"_

"_Yeah, but..." With a sigh, Harry let his words trail off—because he didn't want to give Draco any excuses for _not_ writing—and instead squeezed him tight to his chest._

_And then their time at school was over._

Thinking about that last day with Draco at Hogwarts was painful. Harry had _so_ wanted to Obliviate the two Aurors and send them on their bloody way, then take Draco home with him, but...that was impossible. Kidnapping Draco would only cause them both trouble—and Harry was done with trouble. Well, until he became an Auror himself—then he supposed he'd be all about trouble again.

Besides, there was Ginny to think of. He very much loved and wanted to marry her—and have a family with her—which had him wondering how he could be in love two _very_ different people at the same time. Ginny was happy and laid-back and good. And Draco was...moody and uptight and saucy. Ginny had a huge, loving family, who supported him one hundred percent, and Draco's family was small and...on the _wrong_ side of the law; and they hated him. Ginny was kind and understanding, whereas Draco could be a right pain in the arse!

Literally. At first, sex with Draco was awkward and uncomfortable, but it was also _mind-blowingly_ brilliant! In fact, Harry could hardly believe how bloody fantastic it had been. He'd balked at the idea in the beginning—because he'd grown up being told that a man should not lie with another man—but once Draco had gotten him into bed, there was no turning back.

Well, that wasn't completely true. Draco definitely couldn't give him the children he wanted and Ginny could...so Harry would be marrying her. Harry hadn't actually had sex with her yet—or any woman for that matter—but he knew he still fancied women. And he _loved_ Ginny! This thing with Draco was just something he had to get out of his system.

_Right_?

Harry sighed. He was just lying there thinking about his love for Ginny _and_ Draco when the mirror beside him hummed and started to glow. Startled, Harry reached for it as he scrambled to sit up.

"Malfoy! Where the _fuck_ have you been?"

"Well, good _fucking_ evening to you too, Potter," Draco drawled with irritation—but immediately felt bad when he saw Harry's emerald eyes fill with hurt. Sighing, he continued. "I'm sorry. It's just been...difficult."

Harry nodded. "I figured as much. I was just...worried."

"Yeah, sorry about that too. Mother's pretty much locked herself in her rooms and Father...well, he's been in rare form. I think he's a little touched in the head."

"And how's that last part any different from normal?" Harry asked with a confused frown.

"Ha ha, Potter, very funny!"

"Sorry, Draco, I didn't mean—"

"I know you didn't, Harry," Draco interrupted with a shrug. "Don't worry about it."

Reaching up with the hand not holding the mirror, Harry ran a finger over Draco's reflection. "I wish I could touch you."

"I wish I could _feel_ that," Draco responded as he brought his fingers up to copy Harry's motions. "This sucks!"

"Yeah," Harry said with a bitter laugh. "Hey, you look...tired."

Draco snorted. "Is that your way of saying I look like shite?"

"Well...um...I didn't mean that, but—"

"I was just kidding, Harry," Draco cut in. "But yeah, I am fairly exhausted."

"Are you getting enough to eat?" Harry queried. "Your face looks...a little thin."

Draco frowned. "So now you're saying I'm ugly."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I said no such thing, Draco Malfoy, and you _know_ it. Don't be such a girl!" he said scoldingly. "Seriously though, you're eating, _right_?"

Draco's lips quirked up. "Yes, _Mother_, I'm eating sufficient amounts of food, but thanks for being concerned."

Blushing, Harry frowned. "I'm not trying to be your mother, Draco, I'm just...I _worry_ about you. You haven't owled or used the mirror until now. It's been nearly a month."

"Like I said, Potter, I've been distracted," Draco said—then expanded on it. "I haven't had much time to myself. Sometimes Father just sits and stares, but other times he wanders around and..._I_ worry that he'll try to leave the grounds again, which our _lovely_ detention bracelets won't allow without making us extremely ill," he said, holding up the arm so that Harry could see the bracelet.

"It looks different," said Harry, his eyes going to the metal band around Draco's wrist. "Sort of...shinier."

Draco looked at his bracelet, then nodded. "It looks like this when it's activated. Don't you remember this from when you stayed here during Professor Mitchell's Spring Swap?"

Harry frowned, then shook his head. "Sorry. No."

Draco rolled his eyes. "You are amazingly unobservant, Potter! How are you ever going to be an Auror?"

"Hmm. Don't ask me."

All Draco could do was shake his head.

"So, where's good old Lucius now...if you're able to sneak away and contact me."

Draco grinned. "I put a Sleeping Draught in his brandy."

"No. You didn't."

Arching a brow, Draco pursed his lips and said nothing.

This made Harry snort with laughter. "You _did_, didn't you?"

"I just told you that I _did_, Potter. Did you think I was lying?"

"Oh Merlin, Draco, he's going to be furious if he figures it out," said Harry, laughter still bubbling out of him.

Draco shrugged, then grinned. "Maybe it'll teach him to leave me the fuck alone!"

Chuckling, Harry shook his head. "I doubt it. The man was _born_ to worm his way into other people's business."

"I don't want to talk about Father anymore, Potter," Draco said, his feathers a little ruffled—which always seemed to happen when _anyone_ said something derogatory about his parents.

Harry sighed. "Fine then. How's Narcissa?" he asked, shifting to blond's mother.

Draco frowned. "Why do you call my parents by the given names?"

Harry shrugged, which jerked the mirror so that Draco couldn't see him for a second. "Dunno."

"Well, it's..._rude_," Draco scolded.

"It's not like they know about it."

Draco huffed. "But _I do_. Have you no sense of propriety?"

Slightly annoyed, Harry said, "Fine then. How's _your mother_, Draco?"

Draco continued to look disgruntled, because he didn't appreciate being placated—but he answered Harry's question. "Mother only comes down for meals about half the time; the rest she takes up on her rooms. And she hardly speaks." Draco's face pinched up in the mirror and his gray eyes grew stormy. "And when she _does_ speak, it's painfully polite...and short. And," he said, focusing on Harry again, "I think she's talking to her sister."

Harry nodded. "She is. Andromeda's mentioned it a time or two."

Draco seemed to straighten up. "Wait. You have contact with my aunt?"

"Well, yeah, of course," Harry said nonchalantly, "I _am_ her grandson's godfather."

Draco frowned. "You mean that Lupin kid? You're his godfather?"

Harry laughed. "Yes, _Teddy_ Lupin...Tonks and Remus Lupin's kid. And yes, I'm his godfather."

The blond continued to frown. "Tonks?"

"Draco, please do keep up," Harry teased, a grin spreading across his face. "Your cousin, _Nymphadora_, went by the name Tonks...hence Andromeda being Teddy's grandmother."

"Right...though, that sentence only half makes sense, Potter," Draco said—then changed the subject. "How's Lucien?"

"OH! He's _great_!" Harry exclaimed—then quickly turned his mirror so that Draco could see the Indian Eagle-Owl who was preening himself in the corner of Harry's room. The owl, which _Draco_ had named prior to giving it to Harry for Christmas, looked up at Harry and let out a deep resonant two-note call—as if he knew they were talking about him—then went back to his grooming. "Sort of grumpy though. I think he misses Lyra."

Draco snorted. "Your owl does _not_ miss my kitten," the blond said as he scooped up his nearly full-grown feline and brought her up so Harry could see her. "I think he wanted to _eat_ her."

Rolling his eyes at Draco's words, Harry watched the other man bring his snow-white kitten to his face and kiss its pink twitchy nose. Then frowning, he said, "I wish you were kissing me."

Draco stopped cuddling his cat, Lyra—_his_ Christmas gift from Harry—and sighed. "I know. Me too. I wish I could do other things to you, Potter," he said, as he raised his brows up suggestively.

Harry didn't respond with words, but his face reddened.

"My bed is really cold at night," Draco went on. "I wish you were here keeping it warm."

"Yeah...me too," Harry agreed.

"I would fuck you..._so_ hard."

Harry blushed again, but groaned too. "Why are you torturing me?"

Draco laughed. "Torturing you is the story of my life, Potter. Besides, you wouldn't have it any other way."

"I suppose that's true," Harry said, grinning now.

"I wish you were here," Draco said quietly, his eyes drooping sadly.

"Yeah, me too."

Harry's eyes dropped to his lap for a second, then they went up and connected with Draco's again. "I really _was_ worried about you," he said after the short pause that left the two of them staring at one another in their mirrors. "I know you were...distracted, and that I'm being a _huge_ Hufflepuff, but...couldn't you have found some time to pick up your mirror?"

"No, Harry, I couldn't?"

Harry frowned. "Why not?"

"Merlin, you really _are_ being a Hufflepuff!" Draco hissed out, suddenly angry. Then he sighed, because Harry looked genuinely upset. "The truth is, Potter...the Aurors, who _so kindly_ escorted me back to the manor, spelled my trunk closed. _Apparently_, they believed it might contain Dark objects, or some such nonsense, and they said I wouldn't be able to get into my trunk until either my sentence was completed, in _February_, or someone had the time to search it, which they said wasn't likely to happen any time soon. I guess someone finally took pity on me. So, I haven't been able to open the bloody thing until _today_! Can you believe that?"

"Actually, I can," Harry said matter-of-factly. "I'm sorry, but...can you blame them?"

"Actually, I can, Potter!" snapped Draco, clearly frustrated with Harry's lack of feeling. "You know, I think I ought to go check on Father."

"Wait, Draco! Please don't be shut me out," Harry pleaded. "I'm sorry."

Draco had been about to close the two-way connection between them, but stopped at the sound of Harry's voice. "It's not your fault, Harry...I know this. It's just hard being where I am."

Harry nodded. "I do understand that," he said, bringing his hand up and running it along Draco's image in the mirror. "I really do hate this."

"Me too, but...I really _should_ go check on Father and I was going to go visit my mother before she turned in."

Harry nodded. "All right. Good night, Draco," he said, his fingers still touching the reflective glass.

"Night, Harry," Draco whispered—then quickly closed the two-way connection before he could get mushy.

**End of first one-shot!**

* * *

**Post Script**

This series of one-shots will eventually reach between 30 and 35 different entries. This is entry **1 of 30**-ish, so I'm obviously NOT finished. Please stay tuned for more.

**Note**: ALL my Harry Potter fics are related! At least, I'm making every effort to tie them together in some way.

Now, while you're waiting for more "Correspondence and/or Encounters" to be written, you can read **"Class of Ninety-nine"** (in progress) that is the story of how Draco and Harry end up tangled together. In short, they return to Hogwarts after the war to finish school and...start fucking! It's slow going though, so don't expect them to be together right from the off.

I've also started a series of one-shots that, unlike "Correspondence and/or Encounters," I'm posting separately (four parts are currently posted). I'm calling this my **"Togetherness"** series and it takes place later in Draco and Harry's lives. They are 41 years old this and their lives have changed dramatically.

Repeat Note: ALL my HP fics are connected, so just imagine it goes from "Class of Ninety-nine" to "Correspondence and/or Encounters" to the "Togetherness" series.


	2. Happy Birthday, Harry

**Correspondence and/or Encounters**

**Author's Notes**

**A/N #3 **(same as A/N #1)**:** This is going to be a series of _related_ **ONE-SHOTS** about the times Draco and Harry either correspond in some way or find time for a liaison. Some of will involve other people, like Ginny and/or Astoria (and maybe others), but they will mostly be about our two lovely young men.

**Warning **(repeated)**:** This story is m/m **slash**...if you don't care for that sort of thing, please don't bother reading. And there will be **infidelity** involved, once the two men marry their prospective women, but it won't _really_ be cheating since both women are going to be open to what's happening.

**A/N #4:** Please note that this isn't much different than "Mirror, Mirror" in that the contact between Draco and Harry is mainly through their two-way mirror.

**Title**:Happy Birthday, Harry

**Summary:** After Neville Longbottom's birthday party, which was thrown at Grimmauld Place (July 30th), Harry lies in bed thinking about Draco (who's still on house arrest), has a wank, a conversation with Ginny, receives an owl, then FINALLY gets to talk to Draco. And then reminisces about a time in the past.

**Pairings:** DM/HP (some HP/GW, but no sex)

**Rating: **I rated this **M** for language and adult situations

**Disclaimer: **I own NOTHING! At least, nothing that's _Harry Potter_...all of _that_, of course, belongs to the wonderful J.K. Rowling.

* * *

**Posted:** Saturday, 8 September 2012

**Word Count:** 9,556

* * *

**Correspondence #2**

"**Happy Birthday, Harry"**

Saturday, 31 July 1999  
(_with memories from day, Monday, 5 April 1999_)

Lying on his bed (again), Harry stared at his reflective two-way mirror—and all he could see was himself. Draco had been _quite_ clear; he'd said, nearly twelve hours before, that he'd _not be able to talk until _very_ late the next day_—but Harry had hoped it wasn't so. The blond hadn't really explained _why_, but Harry figured it had something to do with Draco's parents, because...what else _could_ it be, right?

Sighing, because, in exactly twenty-three minutes, it was going to be Harry's nineteenth birthday and the person he wanted to talk to most wasn't available, Harry leaned over and set his mirror on his bedside table, then reached over and switched the table lamp to off. After doing that, he lay back and pulled his sheet up to his chin, then closed his eyes. Knowing he wouldn't fall asleep right away, the dark-haired young man just sort of lay there thinking. Not too much time _seemed_ to have passed before he opened his eyes and glanced at his clock—but time went by much faster when one drifts off, which apparently he had.

12:23am.

"Happy Birthday, Harry," he said to himself quietly, then closed his eyes again.

The room was spinning a bit now. Harry'd definitely drunk too much and...he didn't much like the feeling. He had a _vague_ recollection of dancing on one of the settees in the drawing room, while singing at the top of his lungs to whatever song _someone_ was playing on the piano—causing much laughter. A few had even joined him, including Ron, much to Hermione's mirth—and horror. Dean and Seamus—and several other non-Eighths—had come as well, which was nice since they'd not seen much of them in the last year. In fact, _all_ of those from Gryffindor House who'd been in Harry's year had managed to show up—as did several from the other houses. There were four boys and three girls from Hufflepuff House and four boys and _five_ girls from Ravenclaw House, but just one boy and three girls from Slytherin House. The three Slytherin girls from their year who'd shown up had looked a little out of their element, but the one boy did _not_.

His eyes still closed and a grin on his lips, Harry vividly recalled Blaise Zabini's antics on the settee facing the one he himself had been on. The former Slytherin gave Harry a run for his money, in the singing department, then proceeded to dance with most people in the room—including some of the boys, who looked uncomfortable though they all played along. Not long after that, the dark-skinned young man started an almost terrifying game of Never Have I Ever—which people took surprisingly well—then, because everyone was _beyond_ plastered, Zabini initiated the dirtiest game of Truth or Dare in which Harry'd ever been involved.

_Did I _really_ snog every unattached girl here tonight?_ Harry silently asked himself, a frown creasing her forehead. Then he shuddered as he remembered being dared to kiss Pansy Parkinson. He'd laid it on her—after being taunted by the girl—then left her standing there gaping, the two other former Slytherin girls laughing hysterically.

"Not bad, Potter," she'd snarked after the required one minute snog. "Red's a lucky girl."

Ginny'd been there too—as well as a few others that weren't in Harry's year—and she'd found it all _hilarious_. Well, until it was _her_ turn to lock lips with a few people and Ron nearly had a conniption.

"HEY! I don't want to see _that_!" her brother had yelled. "What's with you and Harry anyway?"

Ginny promptly smacked him and Hermione rolled her eyes, both reminding Ron that Harry and Ginny weren't actually dating at the moment—and that, if Harry could snog half the people in the room, then Ginny could do the same.

Ron, of course, pulled a face and sulked for a while. Only a short while though, because he was soon distracted by the drink someone handed him, then a little snogging—with his girlfriend.

Just thinking about how things had gone, Harry smiled. Alcohol had _really_ helped him to loosen up. Normally he didn't allow himself to be so free, but, on this night, he'd really let himself have a good time. And why not?! The war was over and he _was_ free!

At some point during the evening, in the middle of all the drinking, dancing, food, and games, Harry'd gotten into an argument with Walburga Black's portrait. The dead old bat was outraged that he'd invited half-bloods, blood traitors, and Mudbloods into _her_ home, and she was _not_ shy about letting them all know it each time someone made the mistake of going out into the hallway and making too much noise. After accusing the belligerent bint of being a _bloody wet blanket_, Harry'd giggled, then ended her screeching—temporarily—by casting a storm spell on her painting. Then, once she was sputtering from the sheets of water pouring down upon her _inside_ her painting, Harry closed her moth-eaten velvet curtain and put a silencing charm on it for good measure—and threatened to do the same to the rest of the portraits if they didn't shut themselves up _immediately_!

"Take _THAT_!" he yelled, then turned back to his crowd of onlookers—they were all gazing at him with amusement and snickering.

"I _need_ to get rid of that thing!" he'd complained after he—and several others—had finished laughing.

"Draco's got some good Dark Arts books, Potter," Pansy had said. "You should ask him for some help. That bitch is _awful_!" the dark-haired former Slytherin said with a shudder.

"Just what I need, Parkinson, _more_ Dark Arts books," he'd responded with a roll of his eyes. "As if this house doesn't already have enough of them."

She'd narrowed hers. "You know, they _might_ be able to help you un-stick that thing, you twat! There _are_ more uses to them than _performing_ dark spells."

"She's right, Harry," Hermione offered from her place on Ron's lap. "If we could find the spell that Mrs. Black used to stick herself to the wall, we might be able to reverse it."

Frowning, Harry nodded. "All right."

"Oh sure, listen to the bloody know-it-all," Pansy quipped, a scowl on her face as her eyes flicked from Harry to Hermione.

But Hermione only smiled, because she knew Pansy wasn't particularly being serious. They weren't exactly _friends_, but spending their last year at Hogwarts sharing a house had definitely softened their feelings for one another. Bottom line was, neither hated the other.

Looking from one girl to the other, because he knew they actually got along somewhat well, Harry smiled—but now all he could think about was contacting Draco. And, impossible though it was, he wanted to see him.

Harry knew that he was just feeling sorry for himself. It was _stupid_ really; he'd spent the evening hanging out and carrying on with his friends and some of their friends, but...all he wanted now was Draco. They'd all had a _grand_ old time, drinking themselves silly—for Neville's birthday—and now most fast asleep, crashing in the many rooms of Harry's over-sized house. Neville'd had a heck of a time convincing his grandmother that he'd survive a night away from her; this was crazy, of course, since every year he—along with the rest of them—had gone off to Hogwarts. Not to mention the fact that the now grown up young man had survived a war with the people he'd partied with for hours on his birthday. So, in the end, Augusta Longbottom had given her blessing and sent him on his way.

And they were going to do it again tonight for Harry's birthday.

But Draco wouldn't be there—because he _couldn't_ come, of course—and Harry was feeling sad. Not that, if Draco were to be able to attend, Harry'd be able to have any time alone with him—it being a party after all—but still, it would be nice to have him there. The good thing though, was that none of Harry's friends seemed to hate the blond any longer. That definitely helped, but Draco's house arrest was still a thorn in his side.

Glancing at the clock again, Harry frowned and wished his could get his mind off the blond, so that he could fall asleep. But instead, his thoughts kept straying to the other man—and their time together. They'd only been out of school and away from one another for one month, one week, and five days, but already it seemed like a year to Harry. The next six months were going to take _forever_! And, after the time passed, would they even see one another? Both of them had plans for the future—plans that did not include the other.

And would they even have the same connection that they'd had in school? _What if it fades during this time apart? _Harry thought sadly. _Or, what if it _doesn't_ fade?_ Either way, Harry didn't know what he was going to do.

His mind firmly on his connection to Draco Malfoy—and wishing he could _connect_ with him _right now_!—Harry slid a hand inside his pants and grabbed himself. He was only partially hard, but three firm strokes had him fully erect and throbbing. Stopping briefly, Harry hooked his thumbs in his waistband and lifted his hips, then pushed is pants down his thighs to well below his knees—then brought both hands back to his cock and bollocks. Using his right hand to slide his foreskin up and down over the sensitive tip of his cock, Harry reached the left down and took his balls in hand and gently fondled them. While doing this, he imagined that it was the blond's hands on him and moaned at the image his mind had conjured. After rolling his balls between his fingers a few times, Harry let his hand wander down behind them and to his hole. Without lubrication it burned slightly when he pushed a finger past the tight ring of muscle there, but a whispered wandless spell solved the issue immediately. Pushing a second digit into his body, Harry moaned and continued to slide his other hand up and down his length, twisting his fist over the livid head of his pulsating cock with each stroke. Obviously he knew the exact angle and pressure he liked, but his mind was on Draco and how perfectly the blond man knew his body as well. It had actually been Draco who'd taught him what he liked and now he wished the other man were here—touching him and wanking him.

Groaning, because his head was just as full of Draco as his hands were full of his own pleasure, Harry continued to work himself into a frenzy—eventually speeding up his movements until he was jerking himself wildly and plunging his fingers into his body with abandon. It didn't take long before he was crying out as he shot his load over the wide expanse of his chest.

"_Ohhh_, _yes_!" he moaned, giving his cock a few more strokes, then letting his fingers slip from his hole. Lying there, breathing heavily—hardly capable of moving—Harry watched the remaining liquid leak from his spent cock, then closed his eyes. After a few minutes—that almost saw him sound asleep—Harry once again whispered a wandless spell, this time to clean himself up, then pulled up his pants and rolled over to sleep.

But the dark-haired young man was only just drifting off again when he heard a light tapping on his door. Frowning, he considered ignoring it and pretending he was asleep—but then he heard a quiet voice and, knowing who it was, he knew he should respond.

"Come in, Gin," he called from his bed.

"Hi," she whispered with a smile as she slipped in and crossed the room to him. "Can I sit?"

Harry shrugged. "Of course," he said as he sat up and turned the lamp on, then patted the mattress, indicating that she should make herself at home. "What's up?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "How'd I get stuck in a room with Ron and Hermione?"

Harry laughed. "I didn't know _that's_ where you were," he said. "Last time I saw you, _you_ were sitting on Corner's lap snogging."

"Pfft! All part of the game, right?"

"I guess," Harry said, not bringing up the fact that they'd both agreed not to do anything with each other's housemates—since he'd snogged a few of hers. But then, school was over—for both of them—so what did it matter now.

"Besides, I didn't hear _you_ turn anyone down," the girl accused teasingly. "Exactly how many girls _did you_ snog tonight?"

"Um. I don't really know, actually. _A lot_ of alcohol."

Ginny laughed. "Excuses, excuses."

"No. Really," he said. "I wasn't counting."

"Well, let me tell you then...it was _seven_ from your year and _six_ from mine. But, that includes me."

Harry winced. "Zabini is totally evil."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "I know, right? But, that's what you always said about Malfoy, Harry, and...look where _that_ went."

Blushing, Harry just stared at her; he didn't know what else to do. Was she upset with him? She did, after all, give him her blessing to have fun until they decided to settle down and get serious—and that hadn't happened yet.

"You really should relax, Harry," she said after an awkward silence. "I'm just _teasing_ you."

"Well...that's a relief," he said with a somewhat awkward smile. "You know, you're welcome to stay in here with me," he offered, changing the subject.

Ginny giggled. "Ron would have an absolute coronary if he found me in here with you in the morning."

Shrugging, Harry said, "_So_. We _are_ getting married someday, right?"

"_That's_ the plan," the redhead said, her eyes sparkling in the low light. "But, somehow I don't think Ron's ready for that yet, do you?"

Harry snorted. "But it's all right for him and Hermione to go at it like rabbits?"

"No. Well, yeah, I guess it is, but...I don't think he thinks his little sister should be doing such things." She laughed. "As if we've done _anything_!"

Frowning, Harry bit his lip. It almost sounded like Ginny was hurt. He knew that she was fully aware that he'd had sex with Draco—and wondered if she was feeling left out. But, it wasn't like she was completely innocent herself though. Innocent, Ginny was not! He knew for a fact that she'd slept with Dean Thomas—and he was under no delusion that she was waiting for him for sex. "I...um...er—" he started, completely at a loss for words.

"It's okay, Harry," she interrupted his stammering. "_Really_, it is. You've promised me we'll be together and...I trust you. That's enough for me."

"I do mean it, Gin...about us getting married. I...I love you."

Ginny's face lit up. "And I love you too, Harry," she said, deciding to ignore the fact that, though he loved _her_, he obviously loved Malfoy as well.

Harry sighed with relief. He'd wondered if his dallying with Draco would cause Ginny to look elsewhere and he was glad she was not—at least not for anything permanent.

"So...Corner again, huh?" he asked.

"No. Uh-uh," Ginny said with a vehement shake of her head. "It was a dare, Harry. We were playing Truth or _Dare_, remember? I am _not_ dating that prat again."

Harry laughed. "Not that I _want_ you to date him or anything, but...he's not actually that bad."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Oh-_kay_," she said, her tone sarcastic.

"Besides, he's sort of..._hot_!"

Ginny burst out laughing. "Maybe _you_ should have snogged him. You know, Luna once told me that she saw Michael carrying on with Kevin Entwhistle back in your sixth year."

"_Really_?"

Ginny nodded. "Yep! Of course, _I_ never saw it happen, so it's hearsay. And, only _somewhat_ credible...since, you know, it came from Luna and all."

"So, Corner and Entwhistle. Hmm."

"You didn't hear it from _me_," Ginny said, her hands held up in protest. "And Kevin's dating someone right now, so...no Michael and Kevin."

"Well, aren't _you_ the gossipmonger tonight."

Ginny giggled. "Yep! So...did you talk to him?" she asked after a short pause.

Harry could tell she'd been itching at ask about Draco and finally couldn't hold back. He shook his head. "He said he probably couldn't talk on my birthday."

Ginny glanced over at Harry's clock. "Oh! Happy Birthday," she said as she pulled out an envelope and handed it to him.

Harry grinned and accepted the card—but it wasn't just a card. Inside, Ginny had included two tickets for her very first Quidditch match—which was in Holyhead in just two weeks.

"Wow, Gin...thanks!" Harry said. "I'll bring Ron."

Ginny nodded. "I figured. He'll like that. I gave a pair to George too, but he's looking for excuses," she said with a frown. "I think I'll enlist Charlie to help me out."

"That's a good idea."

"I thought so. I'm a bit nervous though...what if I do poorly?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right! Because you're just shite at Quidditch," he teased. "And, where's your well-known self-confidence?"

Ginny laughed. "You're right! Thanks for straightening me out."

Harry grinned. "No problem."

"Anyway, Happy Birthday, Harry," the redhead said as she leaned forward and gave Harry a birthday kiss.

After returning her kiss, Harry watched her sit back a bit. "Only eleven days until it's _your_ day," he said as he grabbed her bare knee and squeezed it; she was wearing a cute thin nightgown that only reached mid-thigh.

Ginny nodded. "Ye_p_," she said, popping the 'p.'

"Hey, you look cold," Harry said. "Why don't you crawl in?"

"It's summer, Harry. I'm not _at all_ cold," Ginny said with a roll of her eyes.

Harry grinned mischievously.

"Are you actually _trying_ to get me into your bed?" she asked teasingly.

"Naturally."

This gained him a playful slap—but only served to make him smirk at her.

"I mean, you do have to get some sleep, right?"

Ginny nodded.

"Well, there's plenty of space here and...I promise to behave myself."

Ginny snorted, but nodded. "All right, Harry, but...I'm not at all worried about you taking advantage of me. You've always been a perfect gentleman."

Quickly then, the red-haired young woman climbed into Harry's bed and under his covers, grabbed his hand, and placed her head on his shoulder. For a few minutes, they just lay there, hands clasped, Harry staring at the ceiling and Ginny looking across Harry's room—both silent. But soon their eyes started to droop closed.

**XxXxXxX**

It was many hours later before the two of them woke up again. Ginny woke first, feeling slightly disoriented until she figured out where she was—then she heard a noise and realized there was an owl tapping at Harry's window. Gently shaking the man, she smiled down at him.

"Harry! Someone's sent you an owl," she informed him, then started to get up. "And, I should go."

Harry shook his head. "No, not yet," he said as he pulled her back down and kissed her, then got up and went to the window. Opening it, he recognized the owl immediately and smiled as he took the package. "It's from Draco."

"Hmm. Like I said, I should go," Ginny reiterated as she started to rise.

Scoffing, Harry set down Draco's gift and faced the woman. "You should stay," he said, pushing her back onto the bed, then climbing on top of her. "No running off."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not _running off_, per se...just...giving you some privacy," she corrected. "And look, you're getting a call."

Turning, Harry saw that his two-way mirror was glowing. Frowning, because he didn't know what he should do, he just sat there—causing Ginny to wiggle free and reach for the mirror. Holding it up to face Harry, she activated it and waited.

"Happy Birthday, Potter," came the blond's drawling voice.

Smiling, Harry nodded. "Thanks, Draco."

"Did you get my package?"

"Just arrived."

"Well, are you going to open it or not?" the blond asked impatiently.

"I...ahh...I was going to," Harry said.

Draco frowned and narrowed his eyes—then seemed to realize that Harry wasn't alone. "Hello there, Weaselette," he said.

Still lying on her back, her flaming hair spread out over Harry's bedspread, Ginny turned the mirror around so that she could see the man. "Hey, Malfoy. How's it hanging?" she asked.

"_Nice_!" was Draco's only response—but Harry let out an amused laugh.

"Well, I'll leave you two to it then," the red-haired young woman said as she shoved the mirror into Harry's hand and maneuvered herself out from under him and to her feet. "I'll see you later, Harry."

Harry frowned. "I know you have to leave for Holyhead today and won't be here for tonight's party, but...come say goodbye before you leave, yeah?"

"Of course, Harry," she replied. Leaning over the man still sitting on his bed, Ginny kissed his cheek, then glanced at a silently observing Draco. "Take care, Malfoy."

Draco nodded, but again didn't say anything.

"You _could have_ wished her good luck, Malfoy," Harry said once his bedroom door had clicked closed.

Draco sighed. "I hate seeing _you two_ together when I can't see you."

Harry frowned. "I know. I'm sorry," he said. "Should I have not answered because she was in here?"

"NO!" Draco burst. "I would have thought you were ignoring me."

Harry laughed. "Then I'm not sure what I should do."

"Nothing you _can_ do, Potter."

"I thought you said you couldn't talk today," Harry said, hoping to change the subject.

"I can't. Mother's gotten the Ministry's approval to have a few visitors today, so she's having a tea...and she's insisting that I attend. They'll most likely ignore me completely, but I can't very well sit in the same room with them and talk to you through our mirrors."

Harry nodded. "I guess not. I'm glad you called before you go down though."

"It's your birthday," Draco said with a shrug.

"When do you have to go?"

Glancing across his bedroom, Draco frowned. "Not long. I only have about twenty minutes before she expects me in her tea room."

"Oh."

"But I wanted you to open your presents first...that's why I called," the blond said

Harry nodded.

"It's bigger than it looks; I shrunk it," Draco explained.

Nodding again, Harry reached for his wand and cast a spell to make his mirror hover in front of him, then he picked up the small package that Draco had sent him. Unshrinking it, Harry made quick work of tearing off the outer packaging, then opened the box. Inside there were three gifts, wrapped far more elegantly than was necessary.

"They're nothing huge, Potter," Draco said when it looked like Harry was going to burst with joy. "Just a few things that made me think of you...sort of."

Harry smiled. "I'm sure they're perfect, Draco."

"Well, go on then," the blond urged.

Still smiling, Harry chose the medium-sized gift, which was also the heaviest one. "It's a book," he said after shaking it and weighing it in his hands.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Very good, Potter...just open it!"

With almost painful meticulousness, because he didn't like just ripping pretty wrapping paper, Harry peeled it back carefully—to reveal a book. The book was bound in deep green leather and beautiful, but caused Harry to frown—because it didn't appear to have a title.

"Draco?" he questioned, his eyes going up to the mirror.

"Now, before you get your pants in a twist, Potter, just listen to me. It's not an evil diary or anything like that, I promise. My father wrote it, so you can't actually _keep_ it, but I thought it might help you remove my great aunt's portrait from your front hall."

Harry's brow's rose. "Really? How?"

"Well, I got Mother talking about her side of the family and she mentioned that her father, Cygnus Black, didn't much like my father in the beginning."

"Pfft! No surprise there!"

Pursing his lips, Draco glared at the messy-haired young man, but continued. "_Anyway_, he once sent my father a _gift_. It was, however, not _really_ a gift, but instead a handsomely decorated box full of curses and hexes...one of which had several Permanent Sticking Charms on it. Mother said Father had a hell of a time getting himself unstuck from his office chair."

Harry snickered—which Draco ignored.

"That book," he went on, "is full of my father's notes on how to counter each of the curses his father-in-law sent him, including several anti spells that may be helpful to you."

Harry smiled. "Wow! That's great, Draco. Thank you."

"Like I said, you can't keep it forever...Father _will_ eventually notice that it's missing, but..."

Nodding, Harry said. "All right. Do you mind if I...copy it?"

Draco shrugged. "I don't see why not, but...maybe you should have Granger run a few Dark Arts diagnostics on it first...just in case Father put a curse or two of his own on it."

"Okay." Harry was smiling. "Pansy mentioned you might have something that would help."

Draco nodded. "And _I_ told you last December that I might...sorry it's taken me so long to find it."

"That's fine," the dark-haired young man said, obviously touched that Draco trusted him with something that belonged at Malfoy Manor. "Can I open another one?"

Draco laughed. "Of course. Open the small one next."

Smiling, Harry set Lucius Malfoy's book down and picked up the next of Draco's gifts. "Um."

Draco rolled his eyes. "You're not going to guess this one, Potter," he said. "And, for Salazar's sake, don't shake it...it might break."

"So, it's glass then," Harry guessed.

But Draco didn't answer him as he carefully unwrapped his second gift. And it _was_ made of glass...or rather, borosilicate crystal and _gold_. It was a hand blown glass ferret figurine.

Harry grinned. "_This_ reminded you of _me_?"

"Well no. I was hoping it would instead remind you of me."

Harry nodded. "It will, Draco. And it's beautiful. I love it. Thank you."

Draco smiled happily. "I'm glad," he said—then he frowned. "I'm almost out of time, Harry."

"Oh. Sorry," Harry said. Setting the crystal ferret down on his night table, he picked up his third and final present from Draco. "I'm guessing another book. Honestly, Draco, you're as bad as Hermione when it comes to books."

"Please don't compare me to that...know-it-all," the blond complained. Draco no longer hated Harry's Muggle-born friend, but she still wasn't his favorite person in the world.

"If the wand fits, Draco."

"It absolutely does _not_ fit, Potter!" he snapped. "Now, are you going to open your present or not. I don't have all day!"

"I am," Harry said as he slid his fingers under the paper and pulled it back to reveal another lovely book, this one also leather-bound, but brown instead, and with a beautiful peacock-feather quill lying diagonally across the top of it. "You got me...a _diary_?"

Draco shook his head. "Not really. It's a connection journal and...it's like our mirrors. I have one too," he said as he lifted up a similar book from his lap. The one Draco was holding was lighter in color—closer to tan—but the quill looked nearly identical. "If you write in _your_ journal, it'll show up in mine too, and vice versa...so we can talk right in front of people. I'm going to take mine down to tea with me today and write to you. I'm sure my mother won't even notice...she'll just think I'm writing in my journal or studying something."

Harry grinned. "This is brilliant, Draco!"

"Of course it is!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "You're so modest."

"Not really," the blond quipped. "And further, it's spelled so that you can hide what's in it...just in case your nosy little girlfriend goes poking around in your room."

Harry laughed. "You know as well as I do that Ginny's _not_ my girlfriend and that she's not _at all_ nosy."

"Right. And that's why she answered _your_ mirror. _Clearly_, she spent the night in your bed."

Harry sighed. "Draco, are we going to go through this _every_ time we talk?"

The blond didn't answer; he was quite aware that he was being a prat.

"I mean, you _know_ I love her and that...well, you said you're not willing to pull out of your arranged marriage. Has that changed?" Harry asked, seriously worried about what would happen if things _had_ changed for Draco. Could he abandon Ginny after what he'd promised her? He didn't think that he could—even for Draco, the first and only person with whom he'd had sex.

But Draco shook his head. "No, Harry, nothing has changed...I'm still planning on marrying Greengrass' little sister. It _is_, as my father has said on many an occasion, _a good match_."

Harry nodded. "I can see that. You're both very...pretty."

"Appearances aren't everything, Potter."

"Of course not, but I'm surprised you know that," Harry teased. "I'm sure you have loads in common with Asterisk. From what I've seen she's—"

"_Astoria_, Potter!" the blond snapped. "Her name's _Astoria_."

Harry snickered. "Whatever. If you can call my _someday_ wife, _Weaselette_, then I can make up names for yours."

Draco frowned. "I suppose."

"So, would you rather I hide things from you?" Harry asked. "I mean, when it comes to Ginny. Or..._what_?"

The blond sat in silence for a few moments, then shook his head. "No...this is already our huge dirty secret. At least the three of us are being open about it."

Harry sighed with relief.

"Why doesn't this bother her, Potter?"

Harry shrugged. "Ginny's not that kind of person, Draco...I'm not sure she has a jealous bone in her body."

"Hmm. Are you sure she really loves you?"

"She's made it clear that she does."

"She's dating other people too, then?" the blond asked.

"I'm assuming she's dating, but...remember I said that she and I _aren't_ dating right now."

"Right...and again that's why she was in _your_ bed when I called.

"My house is full," Harry explained. "She was just sleeping here."

"Ah-ha."

Harry rolled his eyes again. "I haven't fucked her, Draco!"

"Why not?

"Because we're _not_ dating!"

"I thought it was because she's your best friend's sister."

Harry frowned. "Well, there's that too. Could we stop talking about this, please?"

Draco shook his head. "I'm trying to understand this."

"Why can't you just take it for what it is?"

"Because I can't," Draco replied—then pushed on. "So, she's dating others and...you don't care."

Harry sighed. "I said that I _assume_ she's dating."

"Oh, Potter," Draco said as he shook his head, "you _know_ what they say about those who _assume_...makes an **ass** out of yo**u** and **me**.

"Yes, I have heard that one."

"And so...you don't care."

"I'm not saying that, but...I'm not a hypocrite, so it's fine," Harry explained.

Draco frowned. There was something in Harry's posture that made him sit up and take notice. "Who's she dating? She bring someone to your party last night?"

Harry blinked. "How'd you know about the _Neville's_ party last night?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Blaise mentioned that he was attending...and so did Pansy. I can't believe _Pansy_ went."

Harry's face flamed. "Yeah, Pansy was here. She's _still_ here, in fact," he admitted.

Draco's eyes narrowed. "What's with the red face, Potter?"

"I...ahh...well, it was _Blaise's_ fault, but...I...mighthavebeenforcedintosnogg ingPansy," he said quickly.

"What was that? You snogged Pansy?" Draco asked, incredulous.

"Yeah...and several other girls," Harry admitted.

For several seconds, Draco just looked shocked—and then he burst out laughing. "Oh, how I wish I could have been there to see that. I bet you left her gasping." He grinned. "And what about the Weaselette...must have taken part in all that too."

Harry nodded. "She did. Spent half the evening on Corner's lap."

Draco shuddered. "The guy's hot, but seriously needs to use some hair removal potion."

Harry instantly reached up and rubbed his scruffy jaw. "You have a problem with stubble, Malfoy?"

"Not on his face, you imbecile," Draco said. "There's nothing worse than—"

"_OH_! That's enough...I don't need to know _that much_ about Corner!" Harry objected.

Draco laughed. "Did you think we were the only two?"

"Well no, actually Ginny said that Luna told her about Corner and Kevin Entwhistle during our sixth year...or something."

"Entwhistle's gay too? Hmm, I had no idea."

"I'm not gay, Malfoy," Harry objected.

Draco frowned. "What do you call enjoying a cock up your arse and reveling in _sucking_ cock, Potter?"

"I'd say I'm bisexual."

"Tell me that again after you've actually had sex with a woman."

"Women make me hard too, Malfoy."

"Whatever you say, Potter!"

"And, just so you know, I've never really been attracted to another man before," Harry admitted. "It's just..._you_."

Draco couldn't help but smile. "Really?"

Harry nodded. "Really."

"Fine then, I'll concede that you're _bisexual_," Draco corrected himself. "I, on the other hand, am totally and completely gay."

"You're _totally_ gay? _Completely_? And yet you plan on marrying Astoria Greengrass, a woman?" Harry asked. "_Really_?"

Draco nodded. "Yes. It's arranged and I _will not_ disgrace my parents by backing out of it. And don't _even_ say anything about my family's disgrace," the blond snapped.

"I wasn't planning on it, Draco," Harry said with a sigh. "I'm just...worried about you. I want you to be happy."

Draco nodded. "Me too, but..." He let his words trail off. "_Shite_! I have to go, Potter...Mother's summoning me."

"Right."

"Sorry."

"It's fine, but," Harry said with a shrug, "why do we always have to end on a sour note?"

"I don't know." Draco reached up then and touched Harry's reflection. "I'll send you a message in the journal as soon as I can, all right?"

Harry nodded. "I'd like that."

"Happy Birthday, Harry."

"Thank you, Draco...for your wishes and for the gifts...I _love_ them!" Harry said, then reluctantly closed their connection.

After taking the mirror in his hand and ending the hovering spell on it, Harry set it on his night table—then picked up the crystal ferret that Draco had given him and smiled at it. It was so cute...just like the man who'd given it to him. This made Harry chuckle, however, because he knew how Draco would feel about being considered _cute_; he would _hate_ it! It was a nice gift though; Harry would treasure it and it would _definitely_ make him think about the blond.

_Too much, in fact_, Harry thought with a sigh as he let his eyes wander about the room. Then, his eyes falling on the _connection journal_ Draco had given him, Harry set the ferret figurine down and picked up the leather-bound book. It was clearly quite old, but in great condition—and most likely another book that had been in the Malfoy family for generations. This made Harry wonder about whose hands—and thoughts—had touched this very same book over the years. Running _his_ hand over the elegantly gilded cover, Harry smiled again—it really _was_ a lovely book—then brought it to his nose to smell the fine leather. Leather books always smelled so good to him, but this one somehow seemed better...probably because it had been given to him by someone special.

Harry next examined the spine. It too was beautiful. It was the same rich brown color as the cover, but with raised bands and gilded with gold lettering that simply said, _HJP_. Touched that Draco had personalized the journal for him, Harry couldn't help but run a finger over his initials.

Smiling, yet again, he turned the book around and noticed that the spine and cover weren't the only parts of the book that had been given the gold standard—the pages were gilded as well. This made it even more beautiful and eye-catching, but also served a practical purpose, he knew—thanks to Hermione's many lectures about books...books, books and more books. As with other books, the gold was applied in conjunction with glue, to help protect the page edges from browning, moisture, and dust, but they would still be susceptible to physical damage and easy to scratch. Knowing this, Harry promised himself to treat the book with utmost care.

But as fast as his thoughts about book-care came to him, they just as quickly vanished when he opened the book to find a list of names—previous owners of the journals, he assumed—magically inscribed inside. Scanning the list, he found something interesting; there was another Malfoy/Potter pairing—Sophia Malfoy and Alexander Potter. The inscription read:

_Alexander Potter (1895-1997) & Sophia Malfoy (1897-2006)  
Courted ~ 1922 to 1923  
Married ~ 14 February 1923  
Children (two) ~ Alexis Potter (b. 1930) & Samantha Potter (b. 1934)_

Frowning, because _somehow_ he'd managed to forget all about the portrait he'd seen of the couple when he was at Malfoy Manor last, Harry recalled the incident. It was during Professor Mitchell's "Spring Swap," exactly three months, two weeks, and two days before.

"_And _this_ is my great, great grandfather, Lucien Phelan Malfoy," Draco drawled as they stopped in front of yet another portrait of a pointy-faced man with blond hair and gray eyes. "And his wife, Phoebe Wilkes-Malfoy...my great, great grandmother, obviously."_

"_You named the owl you gave me for Christmas after your great, great grandfather?" Harry asked with astonishment—and a bit of nervousness too, because the blond was standing a tad close for comfort._

_Draco laughed and took a step closer. "Many of our owls are named after relatives, Potter. I gave you _Lucien_, because he's much more pleasant than _Phelan_, who's named after my great grandfather," Draco explained with a nod at a portrait down the way some._

"_I see." Harry studied the portrait of Lucien Malfoy—which seemed to be studying him back. "You...ahh...have his eyes."_

_Draco looked at the man in the portrait and cocked his head. "Do you think?"_

_Harry nodded. "Definitely."_

_Draco looked up at the portrait again and smiled sadly. "He died when I was eight. He used to tell me stories...stories Father _forbade_ him from passing on to me. But he said that, because he was the oldest living Malfoy, that he could do anything he wanted." At this, Draco smiled again—this time with fondness. "Father _hated_ his stories."_

_Harry grinned. "I like him already."_

"_And he gave me sweets even when Mother said no," Draco continued without responding to Harry's comment. "And...gifts too," he started—then paused and looked at Harry again. Even thought the other boy had just teased him about his father—which he loathed—Draco didn't want to argue. Instead, he grabbed Harry's shirt sleeve and pulled him on toward the next painting. "My _great_ grandfather, on the other hand, was a complete arse!"_

_Harry laughed. "Phelan Abraxas Malfoy," he read aloud. "I'm seeing a pattern with names."_

"_Yes, wonderful, isn't it? Draconis Scorpius Lucius Abraxas Phelan Lucien Arnaud Maximus Malfoy..._lovely_ name," Draco said sarcastically, his nose scrunched up._

_Smiling, Harry said, "Well, it _is_ quite a mouthful."_

"_Sod off, Potter!" he snapped, forgetting that he didn't want to argue. "At least it's not common!"_

_Harry rolled his eyes; they'd gone though this argument on more than one occasion and it usually ended in one of them telling the other to take a long walk off a short pier. "I'm sorry, but...I'd _much_ rather have my common name over the thing you _call_ a name." Harry pretended to shudder, which caused Draco to give him a shove._

"_Fuck you, Potter!" the blond said—but there wasn't much malice in it._

"_So, this was Phelan Malfoy's wife?"_

_Draco hardly glanced at the painting of his great grandmother, so engrossed in the boy standing next to him, he was. "Uh-huh. Laira Montague-Malfoy was a fine woman. Far more decent than her husband," he said—then tugged Harry to another grouping of portraits. "And _this_ is my grandfather, Abraxas Lucius Malfoy. He died young thou—"_

"_Wait!" Harry interrupted. "Who's this? She's quite lovely."_

_Draco stopped and looked up at the portrait, then frowned. "That's my great grandfather's sister, Sophia Malfoy. She wasn't much tolerated by the family," he said as tried to steer Harry away from the painting._

_But Harry wasn't budging. "Why?"_

_Draco groaned. "She...ahh...didn't marry well, as far as the family was concerned."_

_Harry frowned and looked around at the surrounding portraits, but didn't see a man anywhere near Sophia Malfoy that could be her husband. "Who'd she marry?" he finally asked._

_Pinching the bridge of his nose, because he _really_ did not want to talk about this, Draco mumbled out a name._

"_What was that?"_

_Sighing, Draco turned and looked right into Harry's curious green eyes, then walked over to a closed door and opened it. "This way, Potter," he said as he went into the other room. "I'll tell you who she married, but then I want something in return."_

_Harry narrowed his eyes, wondering what the blond could possibly want from him—and feeling a little nervous because part of him already knew. Malfoy had been making not-so-subtle passes at him for months now—passes he'd been trying to ignore, because they'd quite confused him. In fact, if he were completely honest with himself, he'd have to admit that he enjoyed the blond's attention. And he wasn't one hundred percent sure why. And so, despite the nervousness, Harry followed Draco anyway._

"_Close the door," commanded Draco. He was standing at the far end of the room. It was a small room—a closet, really—with many covered paintings on the floor leaning against the walls, but empty otherwise._

_Doing what he was told, Harry closed the door, then turned and looked at the blond. "W-what's going on, Malfoy?" he asked as he took a couple tentative steps into the tiny room._

_Draco first shifted on his feet, then took a step in Harry's direction. "Back in 1821, my father's great aunt, Sophia Malfoy, met a man named Alexander. The story goes that this Alexander bloke came to one of her parents' balls...right here at Malfoy Manor...with his own parents and his siblings. Not long afterwards, Alexander began courting Sophia, but...her parents weren't _at all_ happy about it. They forbade her from seeing the man, but she ran off and married him anyway," Draco explained as he took another step toward Harry. "It later became known that the two of them had bonded to one another within a week of meeting. Her parents were furious! But, eventually they had to accept it, because a bonding is not something that's controllable; it just happens sometimes...and it's stronger than an ordinary marriage. There is no divorce available with a bonding, and it can't be broken or annulled."_

"_Wait! I thought Lucien and Phoebe Malfoy were...more pleasant than other Malfoys," Harry interjected._

_Draco rolled his eyes. "While it's true that my great, great grandfather was a better man than his son, my _great_ grandfather, what I _actually_ said was that, Lucien, your _owl_, is more pleasant than Phelan, who's _also_ an owl. I was not talking about my wizard relatives."_

"_Oh."_

"_But, when it came to his daughter, Sophia," Draco went on, "Lucien Malfoy was pretty much a prick too."_

_Harry nodded. "Not unlike good old Lucius Malfoy in regards to _his_ precious offspring," he quipped—and received a glare from Draco for his efforts._

"Anyway_," Draco said, ignoring the black-haired boy's words as he took several more steps toward him, "they didn't disinherit her...mostly because of the bonding, but also because the man's family was old money."_

_It was now Harry's turn to roll his eyes. "Of course they didn't! It's all about money with you people, isn't it?!" he said, his voice thick with irritation. "Unbelievable!"_

_Now standing fairly close to Harry, Draco reached down and uncovered one of the paintings. "_This_ is Alexander," he said—then waited while Harry looked at the painting._

_Harry took a few steps backward, so that he could study the painting properly—it was quite large—and frowned at what he saw. The man staring back at him stood with his arm lovingly thrown around a stunningly gorgeous woman, presumably Sophia Malfoy. He was quite tall and dark-haired and, though weary-looking, appeared to be extremely happy. He had a slight smile on his lips and lines around both his mouth and eyes that told the viewer that he'd had a good life. And, he had bright green eyes. For some reason this surprised Harry. Frowning, Harry continued to study the painting._

_After a few moments of watching the green-eyed boy stare at the portrait, Draco moved up next to him and, allowing their sides to brush, said, "Sophia Malfoy married Alexander _Potter_, Potter."_

_Harry blanched at this, then stepped back. "So, we're related then?"_

"_Brilliant deduction, Potter," Draco said, matching Harry's step backward with a forward one of his own—and then another so that he was firmly touching Harry now. "Distantly, but...yes. Most pureblood families are."_

"_But I'm _not_ a pureblood," Harry protested, taking yet another step away from the blond—his back now against the door they'd come in through._

_Draco laughed. "Your family was counted among the purebloods until your father went and married your Muggle-born mother," he said, his tone as neutral as he was capable of making it. Draco had been raised to hate Muggles and those who were Muggle-born—and anyone not of pure breeding—but he _was_ trying to alter those long-ingrained notions. It wasn't easy, but he knew it must be done—especially if he hoped to get into Potter's pants._

_Harry shook his head. "Wait. That doesn't make sense. I get my green eyes from my _mother's_ side of the family. I've _got my mother's eyes_...that's what everyone always tells me."_

"_Your mother wasn't the only person on the planet to have green eyes, Potter. _Clearly_ you have at least one green-eyed relative on the Potter side as well," Draco argued as he absently made a gesture at the painting of the green-eyed man with one hand, then stepped back into Harry's personal space and used the other hand to pick some imaginary lint off the front of Harry's shirt._

_Harry's eyes followed the blond's gesture, but quickly went back up and locked with gray. "I...um...so, we're related," he said lamely, as he maneuvered himself away from Draco's fingers._

"_Like I said..._distantly_," Draco repeated._

"_How long have you known about this?" asked Harry._

_Draco shrugged. "Not long. Obviously, I've been in our Hall of Ancestors before, but I'd never seen _this_ particular portrait until I was poking around last summer...after the war."_

_Harry nodded. "When you were forced to stay at Malfoy Manor day in and day out."_

_Draco nodded—then moved in on Harry once again. "Now, I gave you what you wanted, Potter," he said as he grabbed Harry's wrist and pulled, then pushed him back into the door, placing a hand on the door on either side of Harry's shoulders. "Now I want you to give me something in return."_

_Harry nodded. "All right. What do you want?"_

_Draco grinned at this—but it was filled with mischief. "Nothing you can't give me, I'm sure of it," he replied as he inched closer._

_Frowning, Harry eyed the blond; he was clearly up to something. "What are you playing at, Malfoy?"_

"_I'm not _playing_ at anything and..._stop_ calling me by my surname."_

_Harry laughed at this. "And why would I stop doing that, _Malfoy_? I've been calling you _Malfoy_ for as long as I can remember. It's what we do."_

"_You're going to stop, because the nature of our..._relationship_ is changing as of this moment," Draco said, his fingers now gripping the front of Harry's shirt._

_Harry frowned again. "And how's that?" he asked nervously—totally distracted by Draco's questing fingers._

_The blond shrugged—then moved a hand down and yanked Harry's shirt from his trousers. "I'll show you," he said as he leaned in and brought his lips to Harry's—at the same time that he pressed his body to the other boy's._

_For several moments Harry just stood there allowing the blond to kiss him—but then he felt his body starting to react and all but freaked out. "Whoa!" Pushing the other boy away from him, none too gently, Harry glared at him. "What _the fuck_ are you doing?"_

_Smirking, because he'd felt Harry's reaction against his leg, Draco just moved in again. "Don't pretend like you didn't like it, _Harry_, because I know you're as hard as I am," he said as he wove a hand into Harry's messy black hair and pulled hard enough to make him wince—then he attached his lips to Harry's neck and used his free hand to bring their bodies together again. "I'm tired of flirting with you," he went on as he licked his way up the column of Harry's neck, then nibbled back down. "And I'm tired of trying to make you _notice_ me."_

_Again, Harry just took it. He could hardly concentrate on anything at the moment...except the sensation of someone—_Draco Malfoy_—licking and nibbling up and down his neck. It felt good. _Fantastically _good! Being relatively inexperienced, Harry was lost in feeling._

_And then his mind seemed to come back to him and he stiffened up._

"_Wait," he said, his hands coming up to and pressing against Draco's chest. "Stop. You need to stop this, Malfoy."_

"_Draco," the blond corrected. He'd managed to push one of Harry's hands off his chest and now had his mouth latched onto the place where Harry's neck met his shoulder. "Call me Draco."_

_Harry swallowed hard, then breathed deeply. "Draco. You need to stop. We can't do this. We're...related."_

_The blond scoffed at this. "How many times do I have to use the word _distantly_, Harry. We're not even third cousins." Kiss. "Which, by the way, is legal...even by Muggle standards."_

"_Yeah, but—"_

"_Stop over-analyzing this!" Kiss. "And just...shut up and enjoy it, for Salazar's sake."_

"_I'm not _gay_, Draco," Harry protested—but made no concerted effort to put an end to the blond's kisses and licks and nips and touches. "Really, I'm not."_

_Growling, Draco grabbed Harry's erection through his trousers and said, "_This_ tells me that you _are_! So I want you to just...try to relax and see what happens," he said, then brought his mouth back to Harry's now-exposed shoulder._

"_Ginny," blurted Harry._

"_Isn't here!" Draco snapped. "And she doesn't care, remember? You two have chosen to remain apart this year, right?"_

_Harry nodded. "Yes, but... OH!" he burst, because Draco was rubbing his hardness—making him harder, if that was possible._

"_Now. For what I want," the blond said. "I was thinking a blow job would do."_

_Harry's eyes widened and he shook his head as he straightened up. "You're mad, Malfoy! I told you I'm not gay. There's _no way_ I'm going to suck your... Oh _FUCK_! he yelled when Draco wrenched open his trousers and pulled them—along with his pants—down to his knees._

"_No one said anything about you servicing _me_, Harry," Draco responded, his eyes dilating with lust as he moved in and took Harry's now fully erect cock into his mouth._

_Allowing himself to be pushed back into the door, while Draco's mouth engulfed him fully, Harry watched the blond go to work. On his knees, Draco brought a hand up and clamped it around the base of Harry's cock—to stave off orgasm, Harry immediately realized—then closed his eyes and, his lips stretched around Harry's considerable size, hollowed his cheeks as he sucked._

_Harry couldn't help the moan that escaped his own lips. He'd never experienced someone sucking him off before, because...well...no time in his previously busy life, but now he was _amazed_ at just how good it felt—a hundred times better than those very same lips had felt on his neck._

_Draco, however, had obviously done this before. How many times, Harry didn't know, but, as far as he was concerned, the blond's work was bloody brilliant! At the moment, Harry couldn't think of anything he wanted to do more than watch Draco's mouth as it moved up and down his hard length._

_But, as his knees began to go weak, Harry found that he couldn't continue to watch the show Draco was giving him _and_ remain upright—and so he shifted his strength. Throwing his head back and using the door to keep himself standing, Harry closed his eyes and let out a deep groan._

_On his knees, Draco did the opposite. _Opening_ his eyes, the blond watched Harry's reaction to what was _clearly_ his first blow job—and doubled his efforts. He absolutely wanted this to be an unforgettable experience. After a short time though, the dark-haired boy's body began to tremble—almost violently—making Draco aware that climax was imminent._

_And then Harry was struggling—trying to push him away._

"_Oh! Draco! Stop!" he yelled as the blond continued to suck on him. "You've gotta... Oh! Stop! I'm gonna... OHHH!" Harry moaned as he shuddered, then emptied himself into Draco's mouth, whimpering out an, "I'm...sorry," as he collapsed to the floor._

_Wiping a small drop of come off his chin, Draco smirked at what he'd done to Harry; the other boy had completely come apart—pun absolutely intended—and was now lying bonelessly on the ground of their portrait storage room._

"_Oh wow! That was bloody brilliant," Harry said after a few minutes of trying to regain his breath, a silly grin on his sated face. "Where in Merlin's name did you learn to do _that_?"_

_Not wanting to answer, Draco shrugged—but then he sighed and said, "Picked up some Muggle on Canal Street...before our sixth year."_

_Harry's eyes widened._

"_Don't look so surprised, Potter!" the blond snapped, his surliness back. "You didn't think I was virginal, did you?"_

"_No, not really."_

_Quickly getting up, Draco straightened his clothing—and adjusted himself, because he was still painfully hard—then glared down at Harry. "Pull up your pants, Potter...don't want to get caught with them down, do you?" he asked—then turned on his heel and stormed out of the room._

CRACK!

Coming out of his reverie, Harry glanced up to see Kreacher standing at the foot of his bed and remembered that it was his birthday—and that he was at home at Grimmauld Place with a house full of friends. But the house-elf didn't look happy.

"What is it, Kreacher?" he asked.

"The Mudblood is—"

"_Kreacher_," Harry said warningly.

Blinking his bloodshot eyes, Kreacher wrinkled his snout-like nose and scowled, then started again. "Master's Granger friend is attempting to assist Debby in the kitchens, sir," he croaked. "And she's making Debby weep."

Harry sighed. He knew that Hermione meant well—she thought she was helping his house-elves—but she really didn't understand them.

"All right. I'll be right down."

Nodding his head, his bat-like ears flopping, Kreacher disappeared with another _crack_!

For a moment, Harry stared at the spot where Kreacher had been, then his eyes went back to the journal in his hand. He'd examined its outsides thoroughly and had just been looking at the first few pages when he'd realized another Malfoy and Potter had once owned the journals—and then he'd gotten lost in his own memories.

Smiling, Harry ran a finger over the names of the couple who'd apparently been in love. "A Potter and a Malfoy," he whispered. "Go figure."

And then he turned the page to find a journal entry already there waiting for him.

Potter,

I'd be willing to bet that you've all but forgotten  
seeing the portrait of our _distant_ relatives at  
Malfoy Manor last spring. But I'll remind you...  
just in case. *grin* It was in that little room, just off  
our Hall of Ancestors. Remember? You know, the room  
where we...well..._you know_. I'd wager you haven't  
forgotten _that_ part. You'd better not have! I did a  
fine job, if I do say so myself.

Forgetfulness. That was my intent, of course...to  
make you forget (the portrait), because I wasn't ready  
to talk about our families. To be honest, I'm not  
sure I'm ready to talk about it now either, so...don't  
get too excited that I even mentioned it. I did, however,  
think it quite propitious when I found these particular  
journals in one of our libraries; that they'd once  
belonged to Alexander Potter and Sophia Malfoy,  
two people who are related to the both of us, shocked  
the bloody shite out of me.

Anyway, I decided then and there that we  
just _had_ to put them to use and immediately confiscated  
them. I hope you will write in yours, so that we can  
communicate during my time of incarceration.

Draco

P.S. I hope you have a Happy Birthday, Harry.  
Don't do anything that I wouldn't do.

**End of second one-shot!**

* * *

**Post Script**

This series of one-shots will eventually reach between 30 and 35 different entries. This is entry **2 of 30**-ish, so I'm obviously NOT finished. Please stay tuned for more.

**Note**: ALL my Harry Potter fics are related! At least, I'm making every effort to tie them together in some way.

Now, while you're waiting for more "Correspondence and/or Encounters" to be written, you can read **"Class of Ninety-nine"** (in progress) that is the story of how Draco and Harry end up tangled together. In short, they return to Hogwarts after the war to finish school and...start fucking! It's slow going though, so don't expect them to be together right from the off.

I've also started a series of one-shots that, unlike "Correspondence and/or Encounters," I'm posting separately (four parts are currently posted). I'm calling this my **"Togetherness"** series and it takes place later in Draco and Harry's lives. They are 41 years old this and their lives have changed dramatically.

Repeat Note: ALL my HP fics are connected, so just imagine it goes from "Class of Ninety-nine" to "Correspondence and/or Encounters" to the "Togetherness" series.


	3. A Visit to Malfoy Manor

**Correspondence and/or Encounters**

**Author's Notes**

**A/N #5 **(repeated)**:** This is going to be a series of _related_ **ONE-SHOTS** about the times Draco and Harry either correspond in some way or find time for a liaison. Some of will involve other people, like Ginny and/or Astoria (and maybe others), but they will mostly be about our two lovely young men.

**Warning **(repeated)**:** This story is m/m **slash**...if you don't care for that sort of thing, please don't bother reading. And there will be **infidelity** involved, once the two men marry their prospective women, but it won't _really_ be cheating since both women are going to be open to what's happening.

**A/N #6: **I am fully aware that Draco only has one middle name (Lucius), but I've given him a stream of them (because I did it in another fic...one which is related to this one). I hope you can forgive me.

**Title: **A Visit to Malfoy Manor

**Summary:** After a day hanging out with his friends—at the Nodding Hill Carnival—Harry decides to visit Draco, because..._sometimes_ just corresponding isn't quite enough.

**Pairings:** DM/HP

**Rating: **I rated this **M** for language and adult situations

**Disclaimer: **I own NOTHING! At least, nothing that's _Harry Potter_...all of _that_, of course, belongs to the wonderful J.K. Rowling.

* * *

**Posted:** Wednesday, 13 February 2013

**Word Count:** 8,216 (this ONLY includes actual story, please disregard the "word count" provided by ff . net)

* * *

**Correspondence and/or Encounters**

**Encounter #1**

"**A Visit to Malfoy Manor"**

Sunday, 29 August 1999

Having only just parted from Ron, Hermione, Seamus, and Dean—and Dean's entire Muggle family—Harry had every intention of going straight home to shower...to get all the glitter, paint, and only _Merlin knew_ what else off his person...then climb into his bed and get some much needed sleep. It had been a long day and he was exhausted!

But first he would take a moment to write to Draco...and perhaps talk through their mirrors, if the blond was still awake and willing. It had been a few days since they'd actually spoken and he really felt like they _needed_ to talk.

Harry also would have liked to Floo Ginny—just to make sure she'd arrived back to Holyhead safely—but she wasn't going to be available for at least a week. Intrinsically he understood this, but was also a bit frustrated, because of their last encounter. They'd _finally_ had sex. It had happened on the night of Ginny's first professional Quidditch match. The Harpies had won and there'd been a celebratory gathering following the match—after which Harry had ended up in Ginny's bed. They'd both had a little to drink—which lowered their inhibitions—but only enough to make them giddy. And horny. But the experience had been brilliant. _Nothing_ like the sex he had with Draco, but brilliant all the same.

But he'd not talked to Draco about it yet and desperately wanted to. Felt like he should anyway—even though he knew the man wouldn't be thrilled about it. This made Harry frown. He didn't like hurting Draco, but...what could he do?

Changing his mind about going straight home, Harry instead Apparated to Wiltshire, which was approximately 130 kilometers southwest-ish from where he was a carnival in the Notting Hill area of London, and made his way down the narrow lane that he knew would bring him to the entranceway of the Malfoys' property.

Turning right, Harry stared at the grand entrance to Malfoy Manor. The high, manicured yew hedges curved off the narrow path on which he'd been walking, then ran perfectly straight, going off into the distance beyond the pair of massive wrought-iron gates that barred him—or anyone who'd not been invited—from getting closer. Harry knew that the gravel driveway in front of him led directly up to the front door—which opened automatically when someone got close enough—but..._how_ would he get there? Surely the powerful wards that protected the manor were still in place.

Standing just outside the impressive gates, Harry peered through them—looking and listening, carefully trying to decide what his next course of action should be. There wasn't much to see between the towering hedges, but Harry knew the grounds to be immensely extensive; they contained a fountain in the main garden, albino peacocks roaming freely on the great expanse of lush lawns that wrapped around from the front of the estate to the back, and, just over some rolling hills, a lake-sized "pond," which was surrounded by a wooded area on three sides. Draco had once mentioned that they had stables as well, but hadn't shown them to Harry, so he didn't know where they were. Bottom line was, there was more here than any one family—of three—needed.

After staring through the gates for what seemed like forever, Harry finally reached out and tentatively touched them. He almost expected an alarm to go off, alerting the entire household of the presence of an intruder. Or a jolt of pain, which would be _much_ more like the Malfoys he knew. But nothing happened. Nothing he could hear or feel, at least. And so he waited another few minutes, not sure whether he hoped someone would show up to collect him or not. What if someone _did_ appear and...what if that someone was _not_ Draco? Harry hadn't seen either of Draco's parents since he'd testified at their trails, but something told him neither would be pleased to see him loitering at their front gate. While Narcissa Malfoy might have been cordial to him at their last meeting—she'd given him a tight smile and a nod of thanks—Harry knew that was all she was capable of extending toward him. And Lucius Malfoy would probably Crucio him, despite the fact that it would land him permanently in Azkaban prison.

_Wait_! Harry thought, shaking his head to clear his addled mind. He _had_ seen the Malfoys since their trials—but just once. Either way, he couldn't imagine them being happy to see him now. And in the middle of the night, no less. And Draco. Harry was certain the blond wouldn't be very happy with him for just showing up—especially if he caused a ruckus.

But, when no one appeared after a reasonable amount of time, Harry swallowed and nervously pushed at the gate. Silently, it swung open—but just enough to allow Harry to slip through. Once inside, he turned and closed it without so much as a click, then frowned at the distance that stretched out in front of him, wondering _again_ if this was perhaps a bad idea.

Then a thought occurred to him. No alarms had gone off when he'd touched the gate, but...they'd neither turned to smoke to allow him to pass—not that he knew the correct motions to get them to—_nor_ had the iron contorted into a face demanding to know his purpose for entering, as they usually did. Frowning, because Draco had told him some about their wards, Harry turned and touched the gate again—they were cold and seemed to have no magic in them. This worried the dark-haired young man, because, without magical protection, _anyone_ could manage to get onto Malfoy property. They could be in danger.

For another minute or so Harry considered this. He would first talk to Draco about their wards and find out why they seemed to be down—then, if he was not satisfied with what he heard, he would go to the Minister for Magic. Surely Kingsley would help the Malfoys if Harry asked him to.

But, for right now, Harry just wanted to see Draco. He wanted to be able to talk to him and touch him—and kiss him. Frowning for a second, because that was going to be quite difficult if he couldn't just walk up to the door and knock—which he couldn't do without disturbing the whole house—Harry shifted on his feet. At first he didn't know what to do. Standing there, the dark-haired man considered the massive structure that loomed in the distance. He figured that, at this time of night, Draco would be in his bedroom—a room Harry knew to be on the third floor—and so he approached the manor and circled it until he stood under Draco's windows, giving a sigh of relief that a light was still on. But then he frowned. _How the fuck am I going to get up _there_?!_ he thought in frustration. Then an idea came to him. He could Accio his broom and fly up to Draco's window. This would solve the problem of the front door, but...waiting for his broom could take some time—time Harry didn't want to spend.

"OH!" he exclaimed—then slapped a hand over his mouth and looked around, hoping no one had heard him. It was silly really, to think someone might hear his little outburst on a piece of land this enormous, but...he _really_ didn't want to get caught here.

Summoning his broom might take forever, but _Apparating_ home to get it wouldn't. In a blink he'd gone home, picked up his broom and cloak, then returned to Malfoy Manor. Then, pulling out his wand, he summoned his Patronus and sent it to Draco with a message—_I'm outside_, it said—then he jumped on his broom, covered himself with his cloak over himself—because he was worried about someone seeing him—then flew up to Draco's windows.

**XxXxXxX**

Lying on his bed, completely listless, Draco stared at the gray dragon—which he'd named Nimbus—that was soaring through the fluffy white clouds that had been enchanted onto ceiling above him, considering his life—or lack thereof. It was day number 189 of his 365 days of house arrest and he was bored. Bored out of his bloody mind. There was _nothing_ to do. There'd _been_ nothing to do since his final year at Hogwarts had ended—seventy-two days before. He walked each day, for some mild entertainment—and to get a little exercise—but he could only do so much of that; he knew the grounds that surrounded his ancestral home like the back of his wand and there really was nothing new to see...or do. Nothing changed at Malfoy Manor; everything always stayed the same. _Exactly_ the same!

From time to time, out of sheer boredom, he fed the peacocks—always careful to avoid getting pecked. And sometimes talked to them too. Well, more than sometimes actually...as it was really more of a daily thing, not _from time to time_ or _sometimes_. He could hardly believe he'd resorted to talking to the testy beasts, but...well, his friends hadn't visited—not once!—so who was he _supposed_ to talk to? He'd expected to _at least_ see Pansy or Blaise—his two closest friends—but...nothing! They did occasionally write though, so..._that_ was something. Right? Hmm.

But that was the reason why Draco knew how and what his friends were doing. Letters. Thank _Merlin_ for letters. Apparently Blaise was on extended holiday somewhere in southern Italy (lucky bastard!)—with his mother (er...maybe not so lucky then)—and Pansy...well, she'd utterly defied her father's demand that she marry the wealthy pure-blood wizard he'd betrothed her to and had taken up with some overweight Muggle in Surrey. She'd even given up her family's fortune to be with fat lug—much to her father's fury and disgust. Not too long ago, the thought of Pansy with a Muggle would have made Draco ill too, but now...not so much. In fact, it made him smile. She was doing what she wanted—what made her happy—and Draco thought that was brilliant. Good for her!

The letters from Blaise and Pansy also spoke of other friends. Blaise told him that Theo had managed to stay out of Azkaban as well. Despite his father's position during the war, Theo had stayed _completely_ away from it all. He'd always been a bit of a loner, often making people _think_ he was up to no good, but Draco couldn't think of a time that the other young man had done anything nefarious. Theo was quiet and sometimes secretive, but a good guy.

Blaise had also mentioned Greg. Like Draco, Greg _had_ been involved in the war, but...witnessing Vincent's death had apparently done a number on him, causing him to sink into a horrible depression. The memory of it still sometimes gave Draco nightmares, but he'd mostly managed to heal on his own, whereas Greg had not. Blaise said Greg had twice tried to kill himself and was now spending an extended period of time with the Mind Healers at St. Mungo's...in lieu of being incarcerated. It was a good thing—his friend getting the help he needed—and Draco hoped he'd someday recover from the trauma of watching a friend die. Merlin knew it was a hard thing to do.

As for his female friends, Pansy said they were doing well too. Strangely enough, Millicent was still dating that Gryffindor werewolf, Lavender Brown...and, odd though it sounded, Pansy said they were blissfully happy and talking about bonding...someday. Draco was still reeling from learning of _that_ relationship, but...well, he supposed his friends would be floored by what he'd been up to with Potter too.

And finally Daphne. Her parents had sent her off to Bulgaria to get better acquainted with the man they'd chosen for her—Victor Krum—since their wedding was scheduled to be at the end of the following summer. Sort of a strange match, Draco thought, but...whatever! Since it seemed Daphne wasn't protesting the match, neither then would he.

But this was all Draco had—letters from his two best friends, but not company.

Well, he _did_ have his parents. Sort of. Even in a house the size of Malfoy Manor you had to run into the other humans living there. Occasionally, at least. He saw his mother here and there. Had tea with her twice a week—Tuesdays and Thursdays, at precisely half four. And once a week—after brunch on Sundays—Draco visited his mother in the gardens. As it was well-established that Narcissa Malfoy didn't trust anyone with her roses, she donned an apron and pruned them herself. She'd apparently been doing it for years, though Draco hadn't know it, and obviously enjoyed the peace of it. Most times he just sat and watched her—because it was clear she wanted to work in silence—but other times she talked while she worked.

But that was about it for conversation with his mother. Narcissa Malfoy had pretty much sequestered herself in her rooms and Draco knew not to pester her when she'd closed her doors; she had never been quite welcoming of disturbances when she was there in the past and he was not about to test her now. And so Draco stayed away.

Draco saw his father from time to time as well, but...well, Lucius Malfoy was mostly absent too. Not _physically_ absent, of course, because, just like Draco, his father wasn't permitted to leave their property—not that he hadn't tried and been punished with searing pain and a week in bed under Healer observation and an Auror guard at the door. No, it was more of a _mental_ absence that Draco was subjected to when he chanced a visit to the older man. Draco had dropped in on his father a few times, but none of the visits had gone very well. Lucius either ranted about the days of old or...just sat there, staring blankly out a window. The former was quite unpleasant, causing Draco to stand there cringing, his jaw clenched while he silently listened to his father's tirades...and the latter, which was not any more pleasurable, found the blond stalking out of the room, hurt and angry—and confused! Though there had been plenty of times in his life that he'd _wanted_ to ignore his father, doing so now was more than disconcerting. He wanted to be there to help him through this trying time, but at the same time he wanted to disappear—which he could not do.

Instead of disappearing, Draco had to find other things to do—and that's where roaming the grounds came in.

He also explored a bit inside, going into parts of Malfoy Manor he'd ignored his entire life. The basement and attic had mostly been off limits while he was growing up, so he spent some time in both of those places. But that too only held his interest for a time—a very _short_ time. The attic was dusty, dirty, and stifling—it _was_ summer, after all—while the basement was dark, dank, and...well...the dungeon was down there and it held some pretty bad memories, so Draco didn't much care for that part of the house.

Bottom line was that Draco had loads of time on his hands and very little to do to fill said time. It was excruciating!

But right now it was late. _Really_ late. Draco knew he ought to just put out his light and get some sleep, but...well...the next day would just be more of the same. Nothing! But he wasn't even really tired. Lack of real things to do did that to a person.

Sighing, the blond reached out and ran a slender hand over his cat's soft white fur. Lyra purred contentedly at his touch, then stretched and meowed loudly, then curled into a ball to go to sleep. Smiling, Draco was just about to do the same when something silvery-white penetrated a wall and bound into his bedroom. Without hesitation, the blond scooped up his cat and scrambled away from the invading apparition and crouched behind his bed—then waited.

_I'm outside_.

Chancing a look over his bed, Draco frowned at what he saw there. It was someone's corporeal Patronus...and not just _anyone's_ Patronus, but Potter's stag—which, by this time, he knew quite well.

Still frowning, Draco put Lyra down on the bed and got up, then edged himself around the phantom-like animal, backing toward one of his many bedroom windows. Once there, he reluctantly turned away from the wispy creature standing in the middle of his room and parted the heavy drapes, then leaned forward enough so that his forehead was pressed against the cool glass as he scanned the ground outside below him. At first he saw nothing—except for a few snowy-white peacocks strutting around—and then something appeared directly in front of him, giving him a start. It was Potter, of course, hovering out there on his blasted broom. He'd clearly just removed his invisibility cloak.

"What the _fuck_, Potter!" the blond hissed after throwing open his window. Though loud enough for the green-eyed man to hear, Draco's voice was barely above a whisper—because he was worried they'd be overheard and that he'd get into trouble. Though what trouble, he wasn't sure.

"Hi," Harry chirped happily, ignoring Draco's obvious displeasure.

Glancing behind him, then out the window again, Draco glared. "Why are you _here_, Potter?"

"Well, hello to you too, _Malfoy_," Harry said, returning the glare.

For a second, Draco just stared. "It's a bit late, but...hello," he said stiffly—then raked his eyes over the dark-haired man in front of him. "What the bloody hell is all over you?"

"I went to the Notting Hill Carnival with...friends," Harry informed him—as if that explained everything.

Having no idea what that was—and not missing the hitch in Harry's voice just before he'd said 'friends'—Draco stared blankly at the other young man for a second, then spoke. "And that means..._what_ exactly?" he drawled. He tried to sound bored.

Harry laughed—a bit too loudly, which made Draco cringe.

"It's a street festival, silly. In London. It was _brilliant_! The Muggles sure know how to have a good time. I'm covered in paint and...glitter, I think," the green-eyed young man said, giving himself an unsure glance, then looking up at Draco again. "I went with—"

"I don't care, Potter!" Draco interrupted, annoyed that Harry could go out with friends and have fun while _he_ was stuck at home...alone. "Are you _drunk_ or something?"

The messy-haired man grinned. "I had a few beers, but no...not _drunk_," he said—then wobbled a bit on his broom. "Well, maybe a bit tipsy," he capitulated.

Frowning, Draco glanced behind himself again—and this time noticed that Potter's Patronus was gone—then brought his disapproving eyes back to the disaster hovering outside. "You look like shite!" he accused crossly.

Still grinning, Harry gestured at himself. "Yeah. Like I said, paint...glitter...and _Merlin_ knows what else. I think _this_ might be flour," he said, giving his chest a pat and watching as the white powdery substance puffed into the air—then snickering when a goop of white fell from his chest to the ground far below him.

Draco grimaced. "That's repulsive!"

"I know, right?" Harry said, looking disgusted.

Leaning forward, Draco sniffed. "I think _flour_ is the least of your worries, Potter," Draco huffed. "What is that smell?"

Harry laughed again. "I think Ron might have spilled beer on me at some point."

"So you were out in the streets, drinking with Muggles? How very plebian," the blond said, his nose in the air.

At this Harry rolled his eyes. "Sometimes I think _plebian's_ your favorite word, Malfoy," he complained, "but yes. Now, are you going to invite me in or not?"

Frowning, Draco held up a hand and shook his head vehemently. "Not. _Absolutely_ not!"

Potter snorted out another laugh. "Why not?"

"You're a mess, Potter. Mother would _kill_ me, quite literally, if I let you ooze all over the place."

Harry grinned. "Yeah...and she'd be pleased to have me in if I looked normal?"

Draco snorted at this. "There's never a time when you look _normal_, Potter."

"Come on, let me in," Harry begged.

Draco shook his head again. "Not looking like _that_!" he said with a look of disgust. "Like I said, Mother would be furious—"

"I'll fly in," Harry interrupted. "I promise not to so much as _drip_ on the your pristine flooring."

"You can't come in. I'm not allowed visitors," Draco argued.

Harry rolled his eyes. "You _liar_. I know for a fact, because you _told_ me, that you _are_ allowed visitors. No more than three at a time."

Draco frowned. "What I meant was, no one's allowed to enter or exit via the windows. They're warded against it."

"I see. So...you've _never_ been able to sneak out?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "I've never _had_ to sneak out, Potter...everything I need is here."

"Well then, I'll meet you at the front door."

Draco's forehead bunched up again. "You expect me to let you traipse through the manor looking like _that_?"

"Oh, for _Merlin's_ sake, Draco!" Harry snapped. "I'll cast a cleaning charm over every square centimeter that I touch...I promise."

Draco bit his lip.

"You're acting like you don't want to see me," Harry said, now looking unsure of himself. "I...um...I'll just go. Sorry."

"Wait!" Draco burst as Harry turned away. "Don't go. I _do_ want to see you. It's just...what if my parents see you?"

Stopping, Harry looked back at the blond. "We won't let that happen. Plus, I have my cloak."

Shifting on his feet, Draco contemplated. "Well, ahh...I guess, since you have your—"

"Front door then?" Harry interrupted.

Draco hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, but—"

With a wide grin, the man on the broom sped away.

"Damn it, Potter!" he cursed as he grabbed something to cover his night clothes.

**XxXxXxX**

When Draco reached the ground floor, he hurried toward the front of the house, desperately hoping Potter wouldn't just walk inside until he arrived—that would set off one of the many wards—and was pleasantly surprised to learn that the dark-haired man wasn't as dumb as he currently looked. Quickly crossing the entrance hall to the already open doors, Draco stopped and looked at the man who, facing away from him, had his arms crossed over his chest. Smiling, Draco leaned against the doorframe and appraised the other man; a mess though he may be, Harry Potter was still quite the vision. And then Draco's eyes strayed to Harry's arse—making his smile widen. Yes..._lovely_, he thought, his head crooked to the side. But this lasted for only a moment—his ogling. Making every effort to make his face impassive, Draco pursed his lips and cleared his throat, instantly drawing Harry's attention.

"The door opened when I approached, but I...I wasn't sure what I should do," Harry said as soon as he saw Draco.

Nodding, Draco said, "You did the right thing. Coming in without an invitation would have sounded an alarm, summoning my parents, the house-elves, and possibly the servants."

With a frown, Harry walked slowly toward the other man...a smirk on his lips. "But I _was_ invited."

Rolling his eyes, the blond shook his head. "Not really, Potter...more like you invited yourself."

Harry grinned. "So, can I come in or not?" he asked, now only a hair's breadth in front of Draco.

"First tell me how you plan to enter without getting all that shite," he said, motioning at Harry's person, "all over my parents' home."

"Easy!" the dark-haired man burst—with more volume than Draco was comfortable with—then pulled out his wand and aimed it at himself. "_Scourgify_! See? All clean."

Draco tilted his head and scrutinized the other man. "I wouldn't go so far as to say _that_, but...all _right_," he capitulated, with a shrug before stepping back. "Welcome to Malfoy Manor, Potter."

Snorting a laugh, Harry moved over the threshold and glanced around the room. It was a massive entrance hall—quite impressive really—sumptuously decorated with a magnificent gray and forest green area rug, extremely ornate furnishings, and a large gilded mirror that took up almost an entire wall. But Harry'd seen it all before. Twice, in fact. His first _visit_ was during the war, when he and his friends had been caught by Snatchers; they'd dragged them through this very room on their way to the drawing room above, then again to bring him to the dungeon, which was in the basement. And, for his second visit, he'd Flooed into this room when he'd arrived at Malfoy Manor for the three days of their Spring Swap—an assignment given by Professor Mitchell during their final year at Hogwarts. Yes, he knew the room well.

"Looks about the same in here," he said with a nod, then turned and moved toward the blond again. "Hi," he whispered as he slipped his arms around Draco's waist and pulled him in for a kiss.

For a second, Draco responded in kind, his own hands coming up to rest on Harry's shoulders—but then he realized where they were and maneuvered himself out of Harry's arms. "Potter, we can't do this...someone might see."

Harry laughed again. "Someone like who?" he asked, taking a step toward Draco. "I'm sure your parents are in bed."

"Well, yes...probably. But this is dangerous. You and I...we're playing with fire."

Harry grinned. "It is a little reckless, but..._Gryffindor_," he said as he reached for Draco and pulled him close again. "I need you."

"Gryffin_dork_, you mean," Draco corrected, wiggling to extract himself from the other man's arms.

Cocking his brow, Harry eyed the blond. "Aren't you Slytherins supposed to be a little more...sneaky?"

Draco shook his head. "I'm all about self-preservation, Potter. Father would _kill_ me if he found you here...and I'd rather not die after all I've been through."

"Pfft! _Tell_ me about it," Harry puffed out, then nuzzled Draco's neck—causing the blond to groan. "I've missed you."

"I...I've missed you as well, but..." Stiffening, Draco forced himself to focus. "Seriously, Potter, you should...stop."

Sighing, Harry dropped his arms and stepped back. "Fine then. I'll just...go, I guess," he said, then started for the door.

"No, wait!" Draco protested. "You just got here. I don't want you to leave, Harry. It's just..."

Harry stopped and looked at Draco. "Okay. I won't then. Leave, that is."

Sighing his relief, Draco held out a hand—which Harry immediately took. "Are you hungry? We could raid the kitchens."

"Not really. I sort of ate a lot today. Besides...wouldn't want to run into anyone."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Maybe I was being a little over anxious about things. Getting caught, I mean. Both Mother and Father have been in bed for hours and rarely show their faces around here...and I doubt the house-elves or servants would give a fuck about you being here."

Harry grinned. "I knew it. Still not hungry, but...I _would_ like to get cleaned up though. Would it be okay if I showered? Scourgify just don't cut it."

"Of course," Draco said, smiling and taking Harry's hand. "Come on. Let's go up to my room."

**XxXxXxX**

It took nearly thirty minutes of scrubbing himself almost raw—under the scorching spray in Draco's _heavenly_ shower—to finally look and feel as if the grime of the day had been completely washed away. Yes, he'd cast a cleaning spell on himself prior to entering the Malfoy household, but those spells always left one feeling a bit itchy...like you felt after you'd allowed sweat to dry on your body, which was never pleasant. Now, his skin pink, tingling, and toasty warm, Harry emerged from the bathroom—squeaky clean—and walked over to where the blond lay sprawled on his huge canopied bed.

"I nicked one of your robes," he said as he flopped down beside the other young man. Rolling to face Draco, Harry smiled. "Apparently you have several of them."

Smirking, Draco turned, slipping a hand into said robe. "Yes, I do. One for each day of the week, but you needn't have bothered...I'm just going to remove it."

His eyes sparkling, Harry chuckled. "You wanted me to parade myself through your room...naked? I don't think so."

"Well, yes, that _is_ what I want, Potter," Draco said as he loosened the tie around the dark-haired man's waist and pushed the robe open, exposing Harry's chest—and more. "Water hot enough?" he asked, raising his brow as he traced a finger over the red marks he found on the other man.

"Brilliantly so, _yes_," replied Harry, shuddering slightly when Draco's fingertips grazed a nipple. "I felt disgusting after spending all day out in the streets. _Oh_! That's nice, Draco."

Pushing Harry onto his back, Draco kissed his way up the other man's chest, wiggling out of his own robe as he went. "Isn't it?" the blond said. Grinning, he latched his mouth onto the opposite nipple and suckled, then ground their erections together—causing the dark-haired man to moan quite loud—and moved up to Harry's neck.

"Merlin, I've missed this!" Harry groaned, his eyes closed as he enjoyed the feeling of Draco's mouth devouring his body.

"I have as well, Potter," Draco said. "You have _no_ idea!"

Leaning down, Draco first pecked a few kisses on the green-eyed man's rosy lips, then licked them moist, dipping his tongue in when Harry opened his eager mouth to allow him entrance. Draco loved Harry's mouth; it was so soft and warm and giving, yet capable of firmly taking when the moment called for it—like now. Grinning into Harry's mouth as the man on his back tried to take control, their tongues tangling in a mad rush for power over one other, Draco used the weight of his body to keep the other man pressed into the mattress.

"I don't _think_ so, Potter," the blond managed to ground out between kisses. After a few more, Draco raised his head and waited for Harry's eyes to open. At first they were glazed over, but soon they focused. "You don't get to come into _my_ house and control me."

His eyes sparkling, Harry grinned. "Of course not," he said, sliding his hands around to Draco's back and settling them there. "I wouldn't _dream_ of it."

"Pfft!" Draco scoffed, knowing just how much the dark-haired man loved to fight him for dominance. "You don't fool me, you know," he went on as he nipped a few bites on Harry's stubbly chin, then nibbled his way back to the other man's ear. "I know you'd like to flip me over and...Potter, what's this?" he asked, his eyes trained on a reddish-purple mark just behind Harry's left ear.

"Er..." was all Harry managed as he slowly raised a hand to cover what Draco was going to make a big deal over.

Rolling off the dark-haired man and quickly moving away from him, Draco got to his feet, pulled on his robe, snapped it closed and straightened it, then started pacing. "That's from..." he started—his gray eyes flaring angrily as he pointed at Harry's neck—then he paused, stopped pacing, and faced the man lying on his bed. "The Weaselette gave you _that_, didn't she?" he accused, his face flushed with...something.

"Ahh. _Yeah_," Harry admitted. "So?"

"So...you _know_ I _hate_ reminders of...of _her_!" Draco snapped, gesticulating wildly. "Why'd you even _come_ here? Are you just trying to brag about being with her?"

"Draco, it's not like that. You know I'd never—"

"Never what, Potter..._fuck_ her?"

Sitting up, Harry sighed. "Well, no, that's not what I'm saying, but...you _knew_ this was coming, Draco," he whispered. "You know I'm planning on marrying Ginny...just like you're going to marry Greengrass' little sister."

Draco groaned. "Don't remind me. _Please_."

"I'm sorry," Harry said quietly—and he _was_ sorry.

Frustrated, Draco started pacing again—in hopes of controlling his fury—but ended up rounding on Harry. "So, you _did_ fuck her then?" he demanded, his brow furrowing.

Frowning, Harry said, "Ginny and I...had sex, yes, but I wouldn't use the word—"

"_Fuck_ you, Potter!" the blond snapped. "Just..._fuck_! Did you come here directly from bedding the little b-witch...to rub it in my face?"

"Of course not," Harry said, shaking his head vehemently. "Come on, Draco, I would _never_ do that. You _know_ I wouldn't just—"

"I know _nothing_ of the sort!" Draco interrupted loudly.

The volume of Draco's voice visibly startled Harry—after all, they didn't want to get caught—causing him to frown. "Draco..._shhh_."

"Don't shush me, Potter!" the blond yelled, his voice almost shrill. "No one's going to hear us unless I _want_ them to! And...I don't, of course," he added—quieter.

Scooting to the edge of Draco's oversized bed, Harry ran a hand through his own tousled hair and sighed again. "This happened days ago...after the Harpies won their match," he explained with obvious reluctance. "There was a celebration party and...well, it had just been Ginny's birthday a few days before, so I...we decided it was time to give it a go."

Draco snorted. "That was..._fifteen_ days ago!" he said after ticking off the days on his fingers. "You blathered on about that bloody match two weeks ago! Why am I just now finding out about _this_? And, why _the fuck_ is that mark still there, half a month later?" he screamed. "Have you ever heard of using magic to get rid of it?!"

This caused Harry to blush. "Well...um...George noticed it the morning after and...well...he sort of put a charm on it, so that it wouldn't go away until I saw her again. Ron was pretty much horrified and I've been hiding it from the rest of the Weasleys..."

Draco just glared at him.

"So, obviously it's still here," said Harry, jabbing at the offending mark, "because I haven't seen Gin and probably won't for a while. The Harpies are traveling," he rambled. "It _has_ faded some though, I think, but...I'll have to start the Auror Training Program with the bloody thing, I guess, and—"

"Yeah. Well, you should have thought about _that_ before letting that little..._twit_ put her mouth on you!" Draco spat—then circled his bed and, in a very un-Malfoy-like manner, flung himself down on the other side.

Worried, Harry allowed his eyes to follow the other man—now lying flat on his back with an arm thrown over his face. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

Draco didn't answer.

"That was one of the reasons I wanted to come over tonight...to tell you. I wanted to talk to you about it in person...not through our mirrors."

"As if I want to hear about _her_!" the blond burst, then rolled to his side, turning his back on Harry and pulling a pillow over his head.

Sighing, Harry stood up. "Do you want me to leave, Draco?" he asked, terrified that the blond would tell him to go. "I'll understand if you do."

From under the pillow, Draco mumbled something that Harry couldn't quite catch.

"What was that?"

Abruptly sitting, Draco's gray eyes flashed. "_NO_!" he bellowed—then threw his pillow at Harry. "No, I don't want you to go. I'm just... I don't know what I am, Potter," he all but whined as he let himself fall back onto his bed again.

Shifting on his feet—and hugging Draco's pillow to his chest—Harry eyed the other man. "So...er...you'd like me to..._stay_? Even though I...did what I did?" Not knowing what to say, Harry stopped talking and waited for Draco to respond—and he did.

Nodding, Draco looked away—but not before Harry saw the tears shining in his eyes.

Tentatively, the dark-haired man moved forward, first kneeling on Draco's bed, then slowly crawling toward him. When he reached him he slumped onto the blond's chest and whispered, "I _so_ sorry, Draco. I really didn't do this to hurt you."

"I know. It's all right, Potter...not your fault," he said quietly, then took a deep breath. "I'm just being stupid, I guess."

Harry snorted at this. "We both know you're not stupid. And...this is _hard_."

"Yeah."

For several minutes they both just lay there silently, Draco listening to Harry's breathing and Harry listening to Draco's heartbeat.

"What can I do?" Harry finally asked.

"You could push Weaselette off her broom and forget about her."

Harry chuckled at this—because, despite it all, he knew the blond was joking.

"Or better yet...you could Obliviate yourself and forget about her entirely."

"I'm not sure either of those things would go over very well with the Weasleys."

Draco gave an undignified snort. "As if I care about _them_!"

This made Harry grin too. Lifting his head, so he could see the blond's face, he said, "But you care about _me_?" he asked hopefully.

Rolling his eyes, Draco scoffed. "Absolutely _not_, Potter!"

Harry's grin only widened. "You _do_ care! I knew you did even though you're an arse most of the time."

Draco laughed. "Yeah, I do," he admitted.

"What can I say..._everybody_ loves me," Harry said, pushing a hand against his own chest and fluttering his eyelashes playfully. "Because _I'm_ the Chosen One, you know."

Snorting, Draco slapped Harry on the head. "Don't push it, Potter!"

Staring down at the blond, eyes wide in mock offense, Harry said, "Did you just..._hit_ me?"

Draco nodded. "Not the first time, nor will it be the last, I suspect."

"I think this calls for punishment," the dark-haired young man said—then started tickling the other man.

Shrieking, Draco struggled against the onslaught, finally managing to stay Harry's hands. "Enough!" he yelled. Then, when he got his breath back, he scowled. "You're evil, Potter. You know how ticklish I am and yet you do this to me anyway."

"Yeah, I do, and..._you_ know how much I hate it when you call me by my last name," Harry countered.

Draco rolled his eyes. "I've _always_ called you Potter...why should I stop now?"

"Oh, I don't know," Harry said with a shrug, "maybe because we're _having sex_!"

"Not right now, we're not," Draco argued.

Harry smiled. "But we're _going_ to."

"How very presumptuous of you, _Harry_. Do you think all you have to do is just waltz in here and I'm going to fuck you silly?"

"_Or_...you could bend over and let me fuck you!"

Draco snorted. "Not likely!"

"Just another memory to add to daddy's Pensieve," Harry suggested.

"Nice try."

"Fine then," Harry capitulated as he started taking off his robe again, "but next time it's my turn."

Laughing, Draco helped him. "All right. _Next time_...whenever _that_ might be."

Once Harry was divested of his robe, Draco struggled himself from his own, then pushed the dark-haired man to his back and started kissing him again; first his mouth, and then his chin, moving across his jaw to his neck again. And then, reaching the mark the Weaselette had made, Draco bit down on it hard—causing Harry to shudder violently and his eyes to fly open.

"Should we...ahh...talk about this first," Harry managed to ask, "before you tear my throat out, I mean?"

Teeth still firmly attached to Harry's neck, Draco shook his head—eliciting a groan from the man below him—then released him so he speak. "No. Just feeling the need to mark you too," he said, lowering his mouth and latching on again.

Moaning, Harry's eyes instantly rolled back into his head. "That feels...brilliant!" he said, strongly feeling the need to have the other man inside him. It was several minutes though, before the blond pulled back to admire his work.

"Perfect. Just wish _I_ could spell it to stay there until _she_ sees it," he complained, knowing he couldn't use his wand—because of his house arrest.

A bit dazed, Harry looked up at him with a loopy smile. "Do you want me to do it?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "No, thanks. Though the gesture is appreciated, you could just as easily remove it after you leave here."

"I wouldn't do that, Draco."

"Ever the Gryffindor."

"Are you going to fuck me silly or what, Malfoy?!"

"You must have patience, Potter."

Harry barked out a laugh. "Ahh..._Gryffindor_, as you said...we're not patient _at all_. Better find yourself a Hufflepuff if that's what you're looking for. I hear Zacharias Smith is still available."

Draco pulled a face. "Thanks, but...no. Not _that_ prat!"

Laughing again, Harry cocked a brow. "Who then? Ernie?"

"As much as Macmillan turned out to be pretty okay...for a _Hufflepuff_, that is," Draco added, because he just had to get a cut in, "no!"

"Justin?" Harry pushed. "He's about the only one who has as much money as you do."

"Would you just shut it, Potter!"

"Would you just _fuck me_, Malfoy! Come on," Harry taunted, rutting his hard cock up against Draco's. "Let's get on with this."

For a second, Draco just stared down at the dark-haired man—then he maneuvered his knees between Harry's legs, spreading them wide so that he had room to work. "This what you want, Harry?" he asked as he pushed his erect cock at Harry's unprepared hole. "How brave are you, little lion? Shall I fuck you raw?"

Harry laughed again. "I'm not _that_ brave," he said, his voice husky. Then, before the blond could comment again, Harry whispered his favorite wandless lubrication charm and waited for the other man to push into him. In a blink, Draco had breached the tight ring of muscle and was fully seated—but then he just stayed there, as still as can be.

"My patience is wearing thin, Malfoy," Harry panted after a few moments. He wiggled a bit and tried to push himself further onto the blond man's cock, but Draco, his arms around him, only squeezed him tighter. "What're you doing?" Harry finally asked.

"What the hell does it _feel_ like I'm doing?"

"Um."

Pulling back, just enough to look down into Harry's eyes, Draco rocked his hips, watching as the man under him shivered with each tiny thrust. "If it's not clear to you, I'm _holding_ you, Potter. It just...feels good," he said as he lowered his mouth to Harry's and kissed him. "Doesn't it?"

Harry nodded.

"Merlin, I've missed this," Draco said, drawing himself partially out of Harry's body, then pushing himself back in—over and over again.

"Me too," Harry managed, his body moving in sync with Draco's. "OH! _Right_ there, Draco. Faster!"

Shaking his head, Draco kept the pace slow, apparently intent on tormenting the man he was fucking, stopping altogether every few minutes to kiss and caress him.

"_Draco_," Harry moaned. "You're _killing_ me here."

But the blond didn't verbally respond—not right away. Their bodies, now shiny with a thin layer of sweat, were working together, both men grunting and groaning with each and every thrust and pull that repeatedly brought together and apart. It was a beautiful thing.

"How about _here_, Harry?" the blond asked as he angled himself just so and thrust in hard and fast.

"Oh, yes! _Right_ there! _YES_!" Harry screamed, shuddering as he shot his essence between them. "_Ohhhh_."

This didn't slow Draco down in the least. As Harry came, covering them both, the blond continued to drive into him. In and out. In and out. Slamming against that spot inside Harry's body that made the dark-haired man's eyes roll back into his head in ecstasy. Over and over again.

And then it was like a dam was breaking and Draco too was shuddering, filling up Harry's tight cavern.

**XxXxXxX**

It really didn't seem like he'd been sleeping very long, but, when Draco cracked an eye open and noticed that the light of sun was blaring in through the window he'd left uncovered after Potter had arrived the night before, the blond knew it was late. And quite possibly _very_ late. Usually, indirect sunlight wasn't enough to wake him, so he wondered why he was up—what had awakened him. And then he heard a rather loud rap on his door and knew.

"Draco?"

Draco groaned. It was his father.

"Draco," the man outside the room said more firmly. "Unlock this door...immediately."

"Shite!" he said with another groan. Turning, he gave the man sleeping next to him a poke—and a shove when Harry didn't move an inch—and then hissed, "_Potter_! Wake up. My father is knocking on the door and I can't let him in with your lounging about."

Though Draco knew Harry would have been content to ignore him, the dark-haired man rolled over and squinted up at him—he couldn't see a thing without his glasses, of course. But, other than that, Harry didn't move a muscle to get out of the bed. "Just hide me," he said, then pulled Draco's bedding over his head and tried to sink back into the mattress.

"No," Draco argued, his teeth clenched. "Get up! You have to go...at least into the bathroom. Or something." Draco's eyes looked from Harry to the door when he heard another impatient rap on it.

"Draco! Open this door!" came his father's muffled voice.

Frowning, Draco tried to yank the blankets off his bed companion, but Harry struggled to keep them over him. Managing to pull them away—if only briefly—the blond slapped Harry's bare arse, causing him to yelp before burying himself under them again. Finally, giving up, Draco sighed and arranged the blankets on top of the naked man. "You're _such_ arse, Potter!" he snapped. "I swear, if I get into trouble for this, I'm going to—"

And then another rap sounded, interrupting him.

"Draconis Scorpius Lucius Abraxas..." Lucius could be heard, reciting Draco's full name from outside the room—which caused Harry to poke his head out and grin blindly up at Draco, mouthing the rest. "..._Phelan Lucien Arnaud Maximus Malfoy_," Harry finished, almost giggling. "I just love your uncommon name."

Draco grabbed a pillow and slammed it onto Harry's head, sending the dark-haired man back under the covers. "Prat!" he spat. Then sighing, Draco fluffed the rest of the bedding and stood up. Donning a robe—the one Harry had worn the night before, because he didn't see the one _he'd_ been wearing—Draco scowled down at Harry's stupid grinning face and messy as _bloody fuck_ hair. "Hide yourself," he commanded—then turned.

"_Coming_, Father," he called out as he hurried across the room. Before opening the door, he glanced back at his bed and, satisfied Potter was completely hidden again, faced the door and opened it. "Sorry. I was using the toilet," he lied.

Gliding into his son's suite, Lucius Malfoy looked around, as if he expected to find something nefarious going on—little did he know—then, finding nothing, he sniffed and wrinkled his nose. "It smells like a Quidditch locker room in here, Draco," the man complained and headed toward the windows. After throwing them all open, the older Malfoy turned and glanced around the room again. "And...this place is a mess! What have you been _doing_ in here?!"

"Nothing, Father," Draco said innocently—or so he hoped. It was hard to keep a straight face; he wanted to laugh and say, _Oh, nothing much, Father, just buggering Harry Potter senseless_, but of course he couldn't say that, because his father would hit the roof. And, in the man's condition, that would probably be a very bad thing. Instead, Draco just stared back at him, wondering why his father was out of his own rooms. This was a rare thing; Lucid moments were _very_ rare occurrences. "Is there something you needed, Father?" he asked after a moment.

Lucius' eyes narrowed, then quickly his brow smoothed. "You didn't come down to breakfast."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Or lunch."

"I was...tired, I guess."

"Are you ill, son?"

Draco shook his head. "No, Father, I'm fine. I promise."

"You need to eat."

Draco nodded. "I'll be down soon," he said, curious as to why, of all days, his father would be worried about his eating habits. Usually the older man didn't even bother to leave his own rooms, let alone worry about Draco.

Lucius' eyes then went to Draco's bed and narrowed again. "You really ought to take better care in here, Draco. It looks like you've had a wild night."

Blushing, and hoping his father didn't notice, Draco nodded again. "Yes, Father. I'll make my bed and straighten up, then come down...after I shower," he added, realizing that he probably reeked of sweat and sex.

This seemed to satisfy the older man. Giving his son a clipped nod, Lucius turned and walked out without another word. Sighing, Draco quickly relocked his door and turned a glare on the man in his bed—who was now peeking out and laughing.

"_Yes, Father_," Harry mimicked—and received another pillow to the head for his teasing.

* * *

**End of third one-shot!**

**Post Script**

This series of one-shots will eventually reach between 30 and 35 different entries. This is entry **3 of 30**-ish, so I'm obviously NOT finished. Please stay tuned for more.

**Note**: ALL my Harry Potter fics are related! At least, I'm making every effort to tie them together in some way.

Now, while you're waiting for more "Correspondence and/or Encounters" to be written, you can read **"Class of Ninety-nine"** (in progress) that is the story of how Draco and Harry end up tangled together. In short, they return to Hogwarts after the war to finish school and...start fucking! It's slow going though, so don't expect them to be together right from the off.

I've also started a series of one-shots that, unlike "Correspondence and/or Encounters," I'm posting separately (four parts are currently posted). I'm calling this my **"Togetherness"** series and it takes place later in Draco and Harry's lives. They are 41 years old this and their lives have changed dramatically.

Repeat Note: ALL my HP fics are connected, so just imagine it goes from "Class of Ninety-nine" to "Correspondence and/or Encounters" to the "Togetherness" series.


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